The Marriage Market
by AzaleaMarie
Summary: It is January 1843, and Ginevra Weasley has unwittingly entered the marriage market. Can she navigate polite society without attracting unwanted attention? With a determined aunt, bent on marital success, and a wealthy wizard searching for a bride, Ginevra may just find this task nigh impossible. Victorian AU. Fluff.
1. An Unfortunate Meeting

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

 **Important Note:** While this story is set in the Victorian times, Wizarding society is far more liberal about women, their education and pursuit of a career. However, I have attempted to adhere to the social codes that dictated Victorian society. So, if you see some things that may seem out of place, then this is why.

* * *

 **The Marriage Market**

 **CHAPTER I**

 **An Unfortunate Meeting**

Ginevra Weasley's greatest ambition in life was to become a Mediwitch. She had bore witness to devastation and death, to pain and injury, as many had in the second war against Lord Voldemort. Yet, what she had witnessed and experienced caused the desire to ease the suffering of her fellow man to blossom rapidly within her. To her, the dream of wanting to be a star Chaser now seemed so childish in comparison. The consequences of this was that Ginevra had left Hogwarts five years ago, a proud Gryffindor with a decent set of N.E.W.T.S to her name. On top of this, a possible engagement to Harry Potter glistened hopefully around the corner. However, the scholarship she had been hoping for to attend St. Mungo's School of Medicine never came. Likewise, the hopeful engagement to Harry Potter never came either.

According to Harry himself, he wasn't ready for marriage. A year after leaving Hogwarts, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas had invited Harry on a tour around Europe shortly after her brother, Ron, and Hermione Granger's wedding, and he had duly accepted with great suddenness as if he wanted nothing more than to be away from her and the awkward situation he had created. Ginevra's parents, her mother in particular, tried to make excuses for Harry; the favourite one being he felt too ashamed for leading her on for so long that he could not face the family. Ginevra, not one to wallow in self-pity, remembered not to trust in men who professed their love so soon after a near-death experience. But, she never did get an explanation from St. Mungo's School of Medicine regarding her rejection.

It was those two incidents in her life that had caused her to be where she was now, celebrating the New Year of 1843 with her cantankerous old great aunt, Muriel Prewett, in fashionable London. Muriel had quite unexpectedly sprung an invitation into society the year before upon Ginevra's mother, almost begging her to allow her only daughter to be whisked off to London the following year. Ginevra had initially been suspicious and had wondered countless times about what her aunt's motivations could possibly be, but the more she thought about it, the more obvious it became. She had suspected for some time that the rejection she had received from St. Mungo's was largely due to her lack of wealthy connections, or at least interesting connections, so perhaps entering into London society would not be a bad idea; after all, she could make those all-important connections there, she could network.

The year following up to her debut into society had not been without its hardships, however, as she had merely learned the basics of good manners from her mother and father. Manners that were, according to her aunt, not fit to be seen in respectable society. What followed was an intensive regime of learning exactly how to slot herself in easily with the class of people she would inevitably be associating with. That meant learning the intricate details of social etiquette, the many and varied steps of the fashionable dances of the day, how to engage in intelligent conversation, how to sing well and play an instrument. Yes, all this one year! But, the most important thing of all, at least to Muriel, was the fine art of attracting the attentions of a worthy suitor. This, as it been made obvious to both Ginevra and her parents over the course of her learning, was the reason why Muriel had sought her niece out and practically begged her to enter society with her.

Her parents did not seem at all put out by this scheme, on the contrary, they seemed to condone it, particularly as they were quite old-fashioned, no matter what encouragements they had given their daughter regarding her career pursuits. They would love to see her married as many of her brothers already were, and if it was to someone who could elevate her from her poor upbringing, then much the better. Ginevra was decidedly bent on ignoring any of aunt's suggestions, should it come to it, but then she remembered that she could not throw her aunt's hospitality and generosity back in her face like that, for Muriel had spent a great deal of money on Ginevra and was planning on letting her stay with her for the duration of the season in her London home. Ginevra could hardly be so obstinate, even if her aunt's motivations weren't entirely selfless.

So, that is how we find Ginevra on New Year's Day of 1843. A witch so unlike the witch of the year before, a witch any respectable wizard should want to marry, according to her aunt, if she would only hold her tongue in public. To Ginevra's credit, she had endured, in the past week alone, four dinner parties, one ball, and six days worth house calls during the day, all the while trying to maintain the pretence of being one who belonged in such places. To top it off, she had only met a couple of people she knew from Hogwarts and only one new acquaintance who might be likely to help her with St. Mungo's. The culmination of all this resulted in a rather snappy retort to a leering gentleman attempting to lay his hands upon her in a deserted hallway the evening before. Needless to say, Muriel was not impressed with her niece's way of dealing with such men.

"Ah! Ginevra!" the woman in question appeared in the parlour. Her violently purple silk gown was quite the picture, but Ginevra had soon learnt not to question her aunt's bold fashion choices. "You look very well."

"Thank you, Aunt," she replied courteously, wishing she could say the same of Muriel. Unfortunately, age had caught up with Muriel rather viciously and had ravaged her face of wrinkles and had made her toothless. She could have paid to have new pair regrown, had it not been for a slighted young lady who had subsequently laid a curse upon her aunt. The consequence was an unfortunate toothless mouth. Ginevra had at least already established that her aunt did not fish for flattery, but rather a purpose. That purpose now was to see her niece settled with a decent wizard who had a sizeable fortune and to be able to claim it was she who had brought them together.

"And I have excellent news, my dear," she said, drawing Ginevra in by her arm, a clawed and withered old hand resting there as she led the way out of the house. "Mr. Draco Malfoy has just come into town with his friend, a Mr. Zabini. Rose has told me that they shall be attending this evening's ball! I am sure you have met him, Ginevra, I have heard your brothers mention his name...?"

Ginevra smiled and scoffed at this news. "Yes, you probably have, though not in friendly terms I'd guess," she said, wondering how her aunt could get excited by someone like Malfoy entering their mists. True, she had not seen him since Hogwarts, but she couldn't imagine him being much different at all. That went for his arrogant friend, Zabini, as well. "You do realise the connections that the Malfoy family had to Voldemort?"

Muriel winced at the sound of the name, many people were still unaccustomed to hearing it uttered despite the dark wizard being dead. "I do wish you would stop saying that name!" her aunt snapped as they stepped inside the waiting carriage, rapping her fan across Ginevra's elbow. "And that was all his father, my dear! The son is quite changed, I hear, and is incidentally looking for a wife since his parents passed away."

Ginevra sent a firm look in the direction of her aunt as they sat facing each other. "If you think you can try to push me towards Draco Malfoy, you are sorely mistaken, Aunt," she said with finality, hoping to end the conversation. "That is one wizard that I will not indulge for you."

Muriel gave a critical tut. "He has thirty thousand a year, Ginevra, there is no harm in trying," she said, her most disapproving look upon her face.

"He also has an unshakeable dislike of Weasley's, so that ends that venture of yours," she replied with a confident smile as the carriage pulled away smoothly. No doubt it had been charmed to avoid the bumps that muggles experienced on the cobbled roads. Happily, her aunt did not continue the conversation concerning Malfoy, but instead shifted to his friend, much to Ginevra's detriment.

"But what of this Zabini fellow? He has twenty thousand a year, and quite a sizeable fortune to be inherited upon his mother's death," Muriel said with just as much enthusiasm. "I never heard of him being involved with You-Know-Who."

"Impossible though it may seem, Zabini is perhaps even more arrogant than his friend Malfoy," she replied with an impatient sigh, tired of her aunt trying to force wizards in her direction. "Incidentally, he also has a troublesome dislike for Muggleborns, so he won't be very friendly with Hermione."

Muriel laughed her croaky laugh at this point. "Ginevra, no one thinks like that anymore. Rose tells me this Mr. Zabini has donated hundreds to charities supporting Muggle displacement."

"No one _speaks_ of it openly, Aunt," she laughed. "Of course they cannot air their true opinions any longer; it would be Azkaban for them if they did. Minister Shacklebolt does not tolerate such beliefs."

Muriel tutted in annoyance once more, pursing her lips in stark disapproval. "Well," she said haughtily, "we shall see tonight, shan't we?"

Ginevra did not reply this time, which successfully put an end to the conversation, and simply turned her gaze out of the window. They were not far from their destination now. Lady Rose Selwyn, a firm friend of her aunt's, was hosting the ball this evening and had invited a great many witches and wizards in town. Being as wealthy as she was, thanks to her geriatric husband, most of her invitations had been greedily accepted, so it was no surprise to find when they finally reached the Selwyn mansion that it was a hub of social activity and noise. Lady Selwyn's balls, her aunt had told her, were famous for their abundance of dance partners and fashionable attendees, so Ginevra felt hopeful about the evening ahead. Despite having no desire to attract a man as her aunt was so desperate for, she did enjoy the dancing and would take full advantage of any offers made to her.

"Rose has outdone herself this year, my dear!" Muriel said with excited glee as they ascended the stone steps towards the large double front doors.

Ginevra could not disagree with her aunt; she was awed by the decorations surrounding the large house, the largest in the street and the grandest by far. Fairies buzzed about leafy evergreens leading up to the doorway, a superfluous amount of candles adorned each window, each of them charmed to stay alight in the soft but bitter breeze, and just outside the entrance were two extravagantly decorated Christmas trees. The pair of them had coloured delicate glass baubles and candles, and each with a particularly bright fairy on top greeted them as they walked through the door. Inside was just as attentively decorated. As they were guided through to the ballroom and their cloaks were taken, Ginevra noted the smatterings of Christmas trees throughout, each richly decorated with ribbons and baubles, as well as vast amounts of tinsel draped across the baroque ceiling, over windows and along doorframes. Amongst all the bustle were hundreds of house elves, balancing large round silver trays containing drinks and canapés on their tiny heads, however it did seem as though the trays were moving all by themselves due to the small stature of the elves carrying them.

"My dear Muriel!" a haggard old voice exclaimed.

They both turned and saw Lady Selwyn bustling as fast as she could towards them, greeting people as she went by in a flurry, with her arms open wide to embrace her friend. "I was saying to Ginevra how you have outdone yourself this year," Muriel said with a gummy smile, and the compliment elicited a somewhat girly blush from the other lady, a look which did not suit someone so elderly.

"You pay me compliments I do not deserve, Muriel," gushed Lady Selwyn, batting a hand to her friend. "But, your dear niece here... now, she will cause a stir tonight. She has the look of her mother when she was the same age."

Ginevra curtsied in gratitude at the compliment. "Thank you, Lady Selwyn, but I'd wager that there are prettier witches here tonight."

Lady Selwyn gave a tut, the same sort of tut her aunt liked to affect, and she drew Ginevra in so they could link arms. "That may be, my dear," she said quietly, casting an obvious glance about the room. "But, I doubt they have your sharp tongue or exquisite singing voice."

"It is her sharp tongue I worry about," Muriel said critically. "Oh!" she gasped so suddenly that Ginevra thought she was in pain. "Is that not Draco Malfoy, Rose? Tell me it is!"

Ginevra rolled her eyes as she followed her aunt's gaze, groaning inwardly as she soon discovered that Muriel was correct. Draco Malfoy entered the ballroom, an irritating smile on his face as though he had just shared a private joke with the friend by his side, Blaise Zabini.

"It is Mr. Malfoy!" Lady Selwyn said in a fast whisper. "And his friend, Mr. Zabini. I must go and greet them. Don't worry, my dear friend, I shall not forget to make the introductions!"

Ginevra again groaned inwardly at this last point, but realised nothing would dissuade her aunt from her purpose. It would be a waste of time trying to get out of this particular engagement. Lady Selwyn bustled off towards the new arrivals, and Ginevra noted that they observed the correct greetings to their hostess. They bowed adequately, which she had not expected. She had imagined that they would merely quirk their arrogant heads and move on, but they actually engaged in conversation with Lady Selwyn. Ginevra scoffed to herself, thinking that they only paid her such attention because she was just as wealthy as they were.

"Who is that lady with them?" her aunt asked abruptly, drawing her niece's attention to the dark-skinned woman behind the two men. She was tall in stature and dressed in luxurious silks and lace, with a rather expensive-looking feather adorning her hair. Ginevra presumed it was a relation of Zabini's for she had that distinct look of self-importance about her that had characterised the wizard whilst at Hogwarts.

"Probably a sister or cousin of Mr. Zabini," she replied disinterestedly, deciding to cast her attention elsewhere now.

Muriel sniffed in that disapproving way. "Well, she thinks very highly of herself," she said critically. "That is not a trait many wizards find attractive in a young woman, so she won't be too much competition." Ginevra decided to ignore the last comment altogether, having guessed that there would be no point in trying to get it into Muriel's head that she was not interested in either of the wizards. "But, the two wizards are very handsome, are they not, Ginevra?"

"Aunt, I have just seen Demelza, do you mind if I go and speak with her?" she asked, completely ignoring Muriel.

"Ginevra!" she snapped, drawing her niece's attention back to the situation at hand. "Rose could introduce them at any moment! You will wait until she does so," Muriel said through gritted gums. The sight was rather humorous, but she daren't laugh.

"I have met them before at Hogwarts," she replied with a frown. "I do not need to be irritated further by meeting them again."

"Hush, girl! They are coming over!" Muriel said frantically, plastering a closed smile on her face. At times like this, Muriel was well aware that a toothless grin was not wholly appropriate. Ginevra's stomach lurched a little as she saw that they were, in fact, walking towards them. It really was quite embarrassing as they would no doubt assume that she was there to beg for a rich husband, which she genuinely was not, no matter what her aunt hoped for.

They all bowed and curtsied to each other accordingly, which again caused some surprise on Ginevra's part as they paid her the same amount of respect that they had paid their host, a woman of considerable wealth and of a decidedly higher station. The witch with them did look considerably haughty as she cast a critical eye over the proceedings, which seemed to greatly diminish the beauty she so obviously held, but then Zabini had an air about him that seemed to question why he was being introduced to these people. Malfoy, however, seemed nothing but curious by the glint in his eyes and, though she hated to admit it, her aunt had been right in her generic assessment; Malfoy was uncommonly handsome and she found, with aggravation, that her appreciative eye was drawn to him. He had a sharp jaw line, a feature he had whilst in school, yet it appeared stronger, befitting a wizard of his age, and he had high cheekbones with a long, straight aristocratic nose. All this was framed by his short, wavy white blonde hair that so characterised his family as much as her red hair characterised hers. But, it was his eyes that were truly something to behold; she had never looked at them before, never really having the opportunity nor the inclination, but they were nothing short of beautiful. They were a clear silver grey colour, a cold and hard unique shade and yet, oddly, she detected a certain kind of warmth there...

"Mr. Malfoy expressed a desire to be introduced to you both," Lady Selwyn said, unable to disguise her own glee and drawing Ginevra out of her own guilty observations. Apparently, Lady Selwyn was just as hopeful as Muriel about getting her married to someone exceptionally rich. But, she did briefly wonder why in Merlin's name Malfoy wanted to meet her, it was obvious in the way he regarded her that he knew who she was.

"That is very kind of you," Muriel said genially. Ginevra had to repress the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation. Instead, she gave a small smile, the only evidence of an inside joke.

Malfoy smiled back at her, his eyes focused solely upon her and she realised with a shock that she had been staring at him whilst thinking about her private joke. Ginevra hastily looked away, mortified.

"This is one of my closest friends, Mrs. Muriel Prewett," Lady Selwyn continued, indicating Ginevra's aunt.

"A pleasure to meet you, Madam," Malfoy said smoothly, tipping his head politely. His companions smiled, though Ginevra could tell this was with reluctance in the way their mouths stretched unnaturally.

"Thank you, sir," Muriel replied, still trying to hide her toothless mouth behind her lips, the consequence was that she spoke without barely moving her lips. The sight was quite comical, and Ginevra dared Malfoy and his companions to laugh, but they barely bat an eyelid. "And this is my great-niece, Miss Ginevra Weasley."

Malfoy turned his attention to her once more, that smile still on his lips. "We have met before," he said, but there was no trace of criticism nor malice in his words. He merely reached for her white gloved hand and kissed her lightly on her knuckles. The action had been so sudden that Ginevra had to again repress an urge, but this time it was to jump back. "It is a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Weasley."

Ginevra blinked, quite taken aback by his politeness, but managed to curtsey once more, after all Muriel was watching with her close eye. "We were at Hogwarts together, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a smile, an idea suddenly striking her. "You knew my brother, didn't you? Ronald Weasley?"

"Yes, I remember your brother very well," he replied with ease, which annoyed her as she had been expecting him to show a flicker of annoyance at the mention of his old childhood enemy, but he did not satisfy her. "Though I was not great friends with him. Does he not come into society?"

Ginevra was well aware that he knew her brother did not come into society. Ron was a working man, as was his wife, but they lived comfortably enough. At any rate, they would not attend an event such as this if they could help it. "No, he has been married these five years, to Hermione Granger, you remember her, don't you?"

Malfoy nodded, again surprising Ginevra, as he still showed no sign of derision or irritation. She had thought Hermione, a muggle-born, would have elicited some reaction. "Yes, I hear she is doing very well at the Ministry," he answered just as politely as before. "But, forgive me, I am being rude. Let me introduce you to my companions." Malfoy gestured to Zabini. "This is my good friend, Blaise Zabini. And this lovely witch is his cousin, Miss Florence Zabini."

They all said their 'pleased to meet you's', and engaged in some meaningless small talk until Lady Selwyn interrupted. "Now, I promised I would introduce you to my nephew, didn't I?"

Malfoy nodded as Lady Selwyn took hold of his arm. "Have a lovely evening, Mrs. Prewett, Miss Weasley."

They finally moved off, allowing Ginevra to breathe out in relief. "Are you happy now, Aunt?" she asked in a light tone, glad to have gotten it out of the way sooner rather than later. "There is no interest in either of them towards me, so can we move on?"

Muriel tittered, dragging her eyes away from the prey that now retreated from them. "I agree with you, Ginevra," she replied, taking her niece by surprise. "But only on Mr. Zabini's side. There was definitely something in the way Mr. Malfoy looked upon you that could suggest future interest.

Ginevra groaned. "Aunt, there was nothing there," she said furiously through gritted teeth. "You are only seeing what you want to see."

"Dear, I am a hundred and twelve, do not tell me what I see and what I don't see," Muriel said in a firm voice. "I have lived and experienced much more than you have, child, and I know romantic interest when I see it."

She gawped at her aunt, disbelieving the words falling out of her mouth. "Malfoy cannot possibly be interested in me, Aunt," she retorted. "You very well know that our father's were not on friendly terms. And his past behaviour whilst at Hogwarts was reproachable, not to mention he is a bigoted hypocrite who has no fondness for redheads."

Muriel laughed at her again. "My dear, you are so firmly stuck in the past that you cannot see what is happening in front of you," she replied simply, which only served to anger her niece further. "Mr. Malfoy is a very generous philanthropist, particularly to unfortunate muggles and magic folk alike. He very publicly renounced You-Know-Who, not to mention -."

"Aunt, I do not need to hear how brilliant and charitable Malfoy is," she interrupted coolly. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to speak with Demelza."

"Oh! You are just like your mother!" Muriel said in anger. "Too headstrong for your own good. Go! But do not come to me when you have no decent suitor!" Her aunt waved her off sulkily, not deigning to even look at her now.

Ginevra took leave of her aunt at the first opportunity and made her way through the crowds of people to attempt to locate her friend, Demelza Robins. On her way through the masses, she was accosted an innumerate amount of times by wizards begging her to dance with them. Ginevra gladly obliged them, and guiltily hoped they had some good connections. That was the sole reason for agreeing to enter society in the first place. Much to her annoyance, as she moved closer to the revelry, she saw that Demelza was in fact engaged with a young dark-haired man who she wasn't familiar with. If her aunt had allowed her to go sooner, she would have been able to catch Demelza before the dance.

"Miss Weasley!" a voice called out to her. "Miss Weasley!"

Ginevra turned and found the source of the voice immediately. It was one of the ladies she had been introduced to recently by her aunt, a Miss Patricia Stimpson, who was a few years older than her. She had been a Ravenclaw whilst at Hogwarts, and had done exceptionally well in the Department of Magical Transportation within the Ministry. On top of that, she was from a well-respected family with decent connections and an adequate fortune.

"Good evening, Miss Stimpson," she said with a smile as they both curtsied to each other.

"You look very well tonight, Miss Weasley," Miss Stimpson said, no trace of dishonesty in her face.

"Thank you," Ginevra replied graciously. "You look well also." It was true; Patricia Stimpson had an elegant grace about her that gave her that look of classical beauty that was so desired at the moment.

Miss Stimpson linked her arm in Ginevra's. "Would you mind taking a walk with me?"

"Of course I wouldn't, Miss Stimpson," she obliged, allowing the other witch to guide her about the room at a gentle pace.

"Do call me Patricia, I dislike all that formal stuff between friends," she said with an airy wave of her hand. "But, will you mind if I call you Ginevra?"

"I would prefer that as well," she admitted.

"Good, I am glad of that," she smiled as spoke, an open and friendly smile. Once they reached an area of the ballroom that Patricia decided she liked, they both stopped. "I have been thinking of our meeting last week, Ginevra, and I took a great liking to you. You are unlike many of the other women I come into contact with during the London season."

"I am sure my manners are nowhere near as polished as theirs," Ginevra replied, humour in her voice.

Patricia laid a hand on hers in a friendly manner. "On the contrary, your manners are superior to some witches who have lived in society their whole lives!" Patricia gave a tinkling laugh that made her eyes shine brightly. "But, Ginevra, my reason for approaching you now is to extend an offer of support into St. Mungo's. I do not fault your aunt's assessment of you, and she is as honest a witch as they come. When she says you have intellect, I am inclined to believe her."

Ginevra stared dumbstruck at Patricia, shocked that she was willing to sponsor her so readily. "She speaks too highly of me," she said in an attempt to be modest, suddenly feeling rather guilty at the way she had treated Muriel earlier.

"I know she does not, she only speaks of what she sees," Patricia insisted. "And your decision to not use your connections to Harry Potter also shows a good deal of independence. You want to do this for yourself and I admire that."

Ginevra smiled. "I am glad someone does, my parents could never understand why I couldn't ask Harry..." she said, a little bitterness touching her tone.

"Parents always want what is best for their children, they don't want to see you suffer," Patricia explained. "At any rate, I cannot sponsor you directly, which I am sure you are aware as I do not work at St. Mungo's, but I have a close acquaintance who does. Would you be willing to meet him?"

Ginevra brightened up at this. "Of course I would," she replied. "Just let me know when and I shall persuade my aunt to come along."

"There is to be a ball at Fortescue's in a month's time, my friend will be in attendance and I shall be able to introduce you to each other then," Patricia said.

"Fortescue's is _very_ prestigious, I worry that myself and my aunt will be unable to secure a place there," Ginevra said, unsure. She also felt embarrassed to admit it, but if they couldn't get into Fortescue's, there would be no way of meeting this potential sponsor.

Patricia waved a hand carelessly, casting Ginevra's worries aside. "Your aunt is friends with Lady Rose Selwyn, isn't she?" Ginevra nodded. "Well, then, your place at Fortescue's is secured. Her husband is a distant relative of Florean Fortescue and he always reserves invitations for him and his friends."

"That is perfect," she said happily. "Thank you so much, Patricia. If there is anything I can do for you, then don't hesitate to ask."

"But, what of your aunt's designs?" she asked with a mischievous smile. "She is an avid matchmaker, has been for many a London season."

Ginevra couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "My aunt can design as much as she likes, but I have no inclination toward marriage at this very moment. Though she is rather determined to find me a rich husband."

"Well, forgive me, but witches of your aunt's age are always that way inclined," Patricia said humorously. "Romance has long since left them in many cases, and it is clear she would like to see you with a little romance... albeit with someone wealthy, of course. That is imperative, Ginevra."

Ginevra laughed with the other witch. "Yes, they must be wealthy... I can't disappoint her now, can I?"

"Scandalous, that would be."

They sat a few minutes more discussing society in general, until it was almost time for the next dance to begin, which meant her first partner would be searching her out. Ginevra made her excuses to Patricia, both expressing a wish to see each other once more before the ball ended, and with that she made her way amongst the throng of people again, passing the refreshments table as she did so.

"... but still a Weasley, Draco..."

Ginevra stopped abruptly upon hearing her name, and hid behind a group of people to listen further.

"Yes, it is unfortunate that she is a Weasley," another voice agreed with the first. It was obviously Draco Malfoy. "But, it wasn't as though I was going to run off and propose to her, Blaise, now, was I?"

Ginevra wondered what in Merlin's name they were talking about.

"Asking a witch to dance is a clear announcement that you are interested," Zabini replied steadily, though there was humour in his tone. Clearly his friend wanting to ask her to dance was a great amusement to him. Ginevra thought it highly questionable and felt rather put out by the whole thing. Why should Draco Malfoy wish to dance with her at all? Unless it was to humiliate her.

"She did interest me," Malfoy replied to her astonishment. "Did you not see how she brought her brother and his wife into the conversation?"

"How is that of any consequence?" Zabini asked, bemused.

Malfoy laughed, a sound that took her by surprise as she had never heard such a positive sound coming from him. "She was obviously trying to get a reaction out of me," he explained this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You know how it was with them back at Hogwarts, Blaise."

"And why in Merlin's name does that make you want to dance with her?" Zabini asked in a bland voice, still not understanding his friend's motives.

"Because, my friend, no witch in society has had the gall to try and irritate me before," Malfoy explained. "It doesn't hurt that she is easy on the eyes, either."

There was a moment of silence, presumably Zabini was standing there in some sort of shock at his friend's words. Ginevra herself could not blame him. She thought it would be more believable had someone given Malfoy a personality transplant.

"Usually they are falling at your feet and begging for your attention," Zabini finally said, "that, or your money, whichever way you choose to look upon it. And you would be better off asking one of those witches to dance. They will fawn over you and treat you like a king."

Malfoy scoffed. "Why waste my time? I do not desire a wife who is after my fortune," he said decidedly.

"Then I would not ask Ginevra Weasley, either," Zabini pointed out. "It is still common knowledge that the Weasley's are poorer than most."

"I am well aware of that," snapped Malfoy. "That was why I asked for an introduction to be made. I wanted to see if she would stoop low enough to try and gain my favour."

Zabini laughed at this point, a derisive laugh aimed at his friend. "Now you wish to stoop low and ask her to dance with you, I think your plan backfired somehow."

"Perhaps it is a very clever ploy," Malfoy said thoughtfully, ignoring the jibes his friend had made. "Perhaps she does not throw herself in the way of rich wizards in the hope that they will come to her... We are so used to witches doing the exact opposite, we would be drawn in by her apparent lack of interest..."

"It is obvious that it is a scheme, Draco," Zabini said. "Why else would she be in society if not to attract a decent husband?"

Malfoy gave a non-committal sound. "I don't pretend to be deep in the affairs of Weasley's, but something tells me this witch has a different motive," he said speculatively. "And I should like to find out what it is. First, I think I will seek her out and claim a dance from her."

Ginevra heard the distinct sound of a glass being placed onto a tabletop.

"Don't be foolish, Draco," Zabini called out.

Evidently Malfoy had moved off in search of her. The thought of that left her with a distinct feeling of bemusement. Certainly, Malfoy had explained to his friend quite clearly why he wanted to dance with her, but she did not understand the logic behind it for a moment. Ginevra carefully looked about before she made her way toward the dance floor, her original destination, so as not to be accosted by Malfoy. She thought it quite arrogant for him to assume that she would actually dance with him, a prospect even more unlikely now due to his idea that she must be scheming for a rich husband.

Thankfully, she met up with her partner without meeting Malfoy, and had a happy time dancing two dances with him. Then she danced with another partner, sat out the next, and began another. Malfoy had nearly gone out of her head until she saw him hovering about the sides of the dance, staring directly at her. The realisation of it made her stop mid-sentence to her dance partner and she had to wave off his enquiring questions. Malfoy had now found her, she knew it would have happened eventually, considering the evening's gossip at a ball usually centred on the more prolific dancers.

Ginevra found she could not concentrate on the rest of the dance with the spectre of Malfoy looming at the edges of the dance, it was quite unnerving. She wanted to tell him to be on his merry way, to go and find some other poor witch to torment, but she knew she could not in polite society. Ginevra would have had no qualms about doing such a thing should they be in any other time or place, but she could not embarrass her aunt nor Lady Selwyn.

With reluctance, she parted from the poor wizard she had been neglecting for the near entirety of the dance, and kept her wits about her for Malfoy was no longer lingering at the edges of the dance floor. Ginevra picked her way through the crowd, suspicious eyes scanning the mob of people laughing and chattering when a looming figure blocked her way. She groaned inwardly at her rotten luck.

"My friend is searching you out at this very moment," Zabini said with a humorous glint in his eyes. At least he was the lesser of two evils.

"Your friend?" she asked, plastering a confused expression upon her face. "You mean Mr. Malfoy? Why should he be searching me out?"

Her display of ignorance had seemed to work as Zabini continued without so much as a flicker of derision or doubt upon his face. It was either that or he was very good at hiding his emotions. "He wishes to beg for a dance with you, Miss Weasley," he replied plainly, no trace of the mocking tone he had taken with Malfoy when he had expressed the wish to do so. Ginevra looked as shocked as she thought such an announcement should warrant. "And he is so desperate for your favour that he has enlisted my help in searching for you."

Ginevra was sure she baulked visibly at that statement but he said nothing. "That does show desperation," she decided to say, a sweet smile on her face. "I must say I am rather flattered. Will you take me to him, Mr. Zabini?"

As she had thought, Zabini gave a small smirk, a little look of triumph in his eyes. No doubt his earlier concerns about her being a gold-digger had just been cemented in his mind by her decision to dance with Malfoy without so much as a protestation. "Of course I will, Miss Weasley," he said obligingly. Zabini held out his arm to her for her to take and led her across the ballroom to wherever Malfoy was searching for her. Ginevra put on her best smile as Malfoy came into view, though she did have to admit to herself again that he had become uncommonly handsome in the intervening years. "I have your prize, Draco," announced Zabini. "And she came very willingly."

Ginevra threw Malfoy a coy look, to which he reacted with a rather disarming smile. "I hear you wish to dance with me, Mr. Malfoy."

"Indeed, I do," he said in a low voice, taking her hand from Zabini's arm and placing a kiss upon there once again.

Ginevra tittered lightly. "And why would you wish to do that?"

That took the both of them by surprise. They stared at her with equal amounts of shock in their eyes, but they recovered quickly. "Why?" he asked. "Well, because you are the prettiest witch here, Miss Weasley, and possibly the most interesting."

"You flatter me well, Mr. Malfoy," she replied in a calm voice. "But I heard that you thought a few other less appealing things about me, namely that I am conducting an intricate scheme to bag myself a rich husband. Is that not true?" The pair of them gawped at her, but it seemed only Malfoy had the decency to look at least a little ashamed. Zabini simply gave his irritating smirk to the proceedings. Ginevra smiled at them genially. "Your silence speaks for you, gentlemen." With that, she turned from them with a flurry of her skirts and made her way further into the ballroom, feeling perfectly satisfied with herself. She hadn't caused a scene nor had she been improper.

The rest of the evening passed without fault however, and she danced with more decent partners, happy in the knowledge that in a month's time she would be taking that step further to St. Mungo's. Ginevra finally managed to speak with Demelza, who informed her that she could be engaged very soon to the man she had been dancing with at the beginning of the evening. She was shocked to discover that it was Terence Higgs, the former Slytherin seeker, he had been a few years older than the two witches. Happily, there was no sign of Malfoy for the rest of the evening, nor of his companions. It wasn't until the end of the ball that she even saw her aunt again.

Once inside their carriage, Muriel's face was like thunder. "I cannot believe your behaviour, Ginevra," she said with cold fury, and immediately she knew what her aunt was so upset about. No doubt the two Slytherins had gone and told on her, no doubt exaggerating a few points for good measure. "Did you not think I wouldn't hear about it?"

"Not at all, Aunt," she replied calmly. "But, I suppose they did not tell you what they said regarding me? They behaved very ungentlemanly themselves."

"I have heard what they said regarding you, niece," she answered, her voice just as cold and hard as before. Apparently, her aunt was not going to be in a forgiving mood, not even on that point. "Both _gentlemen_ sought me out and explained the entire situation to me, and the apologised profusely, particularly Mr. Malfoy," she added for good measure.

Ginevra felt angered by that; they only did such a thing to make her appear worse, when she had conducted herself with decorum. "That still does not make what they said right, Aunt," she said relentlessly, refusing to back down.

"And what of it? Wealthy wizards and witches alike enter society with the knowledge that others will be after their fortunes, it is common knowledge," Muriel lectured to her. "There was no need to get so uppity about it, Ginevra. You ruined a perfectly excellent chance to charm the Malfoy boy!" Ginevra turned angrily away from her aunt, and glowered out into the night. She was determined never to hear or see Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini again. "I have also invited them to tea on the morrow, so you would do well to think of an adequate apology."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! Please review as well, I would like some genuine feedback on this one, and they make me happy of course. I am also looking for a beta-reader for this fic, if anyone is interested, please let me know.


	2. A Most Unfortunate Letter

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

* * *

 **The Marriage Market**

 **Chapter II**

 **A Most Unfortunate Letter**

Ginevra's determination to never see nor hear from either of the two gentlemen was proving rather difficult. As her aunt had promised, the pair of them arrived for tea the following afternoon. Where that may have been a problem for anyone else who had sworn against seeing either of them, Ginevra had learnt a substantial amount in the way of trickery from her older brothers and had already decided the preceding evening to pretend she was far too ill with a fever to be seen by anybody, let alone get out of bed.

That very morning, Ginevra had made sure to insert a few weak coughs here and there at breakfast, even going so far as to suddenly lose her appetite and ask to be excused as she felt 'a little faint'. Quite surprisingly, Muriel seemed rather taken in with her illness and was duly worried by it. Ginevra wondered if it might be because she felt at least some guilt at the way she had reacted last night. When she had returned to her room, Ginevra cast a few spells to make her 'illness' believable; she gave her bed a little dusting of water to make it appear she had been sweating a good deal, then she placed a glamour on herself to look sufficiently feverish, with purple under-eye circles and a sweaty-looking forehead. All she had to do was lay herself in bed and wait for the two men to arrive.

It had been quite tedious lying in bed for the rest of the day, but as it was to avoid Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini it was all worth it. Muriel even came to visit her in the evening and was most sympathetic, in fact it was completely out of character for Muriel to behave in such a way that Ginevra did wonder that she had caused her aunt an inordinate amount of guilt. However, when her aunt began to lament the fact that she had been unable to see Mr. Malfoy and how apologetic he was, Ginevra decided she would not feel at all bad about her scheme.

In spite of this, Malfoy returned the very next morning enquiring about her health. Luckily, Ginevra had spotted him from her window as she had remained in her room to keep the pretence believable. She had quickly got back into bed in case Muriel should try and drag her downstairs, no doubt she would be beside herself. After he had left and her aunt came to gush over Malfoy's latest visit, Ginevra lay there and wondered why he was pretending to be so concerned. Was he actually sorry for what he said at the ball? Or was he merely keeping up appearances? Yet, surely accepting the invitation to tea the day before was enough to keep his reputation as a gentleman intact. Stranger still, his friend did not join him this time. It was very odd behaviour indeed.

The very next day, Ginevra felt safe enough to leave her room. Surely no one could be that persistent. As soon as Muriel laid eyes upon her niece, a look of unabashed glee crossed her face, making her appear much younger than her years, and it took Ginevra quite by surprise.

"What is, Aunt?" Ginevra asked hurriedly.

"I am glad to see you are well, child," Muriel said, happier than she had ever seen her aunt. "This came for you just this morning... and I don't doubt for a moment who it is from!" Her aunt held out a crisp envelope to her, the parchment looked particularly expensive, but it was the black seal on it that made Ginevra recoil. "Well, take it my dear! Don't waste time!"

Indented into the seal was the Malfoy coat of arms, she knew that much from all the tutelage she had received from her aunt over the summer regarding all the 'well-connected' families. Ginevra took the letter with reluctance. "Why is he sending me letters?" she groaned.

"You should be flattered that he is paying you such attention," her aunt chided with a clear expression of bemusement. Obviously her niece's barbed criticisms levelled at Malfoy had done nothing to dissuade the determination and single-mindedness of Muriel's goal.

"I am taking this upstairs," she said steadily in response, deciding not to enter into another argument when they had been so genial for the past couple of days.

Ginevra left her aunt sitting in the breakfast room, her mouth hanging open at the very idea that she would not get to know the contents of what she most likely thought was a love letter. The very idea was absurd. When she reached her bedroom, Ginevra locked the door behind her, broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

 _Dear Miss Weasley,_

 _I am certain that you do not feel any hint of mortification at your behaviour that you displayed at the ball a few evening's ago, at least not in such a way as your aunt describes so profusely and elegantly. However, it is not for me to desire that you feel this way about your reaction._

 _In truth, I believe your behaviour was acceptable in the face of what myself and my friend, Mr. Zabini, said concerning your character. You were right to defend yourself in such a way, and our manners were unforgivable in such a place. For that, I wish to apologise to you, more on behalf of myself than my friend._

 _As to the opinions that we expressed, I can say that my own judgement does not reflect the words I said two nights ago. The way in which you confronted myself and my friend has proved that. No witch hunting down a wealthy husband would dare think to defend herself so admirably. For that, however much you may not care for or want it, you have my respect._

 _I did hope to apologise to you in person, unfortunately your illness has prevented me. Therefore, I hope this letter has found you well._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

The letter confused her immensely. Draco Malfoy was certainly not doing this for his reputation, for who would know that he had gone to such lengths to apologise to her? Perhaps he did feel genuinely sorry for what he had said... but, this was Draco Malfoy! Predictably, her aunt was in hysterics over it after eventually getting the details of the letter out of her niece by prodding and prying as irritatingly as she could. To Muriel, it was a sure sign that Malfoy was showing a firm interest and nothing made her happier than to discuss it with her friend, Lady Selwyn.

It seemed both the older women and Draco Malfoy were conspiring together to get her to break her resolve in avoiding him as much as possible. The last few parties she had attended, he had been there and he had seemed wholly out of place amongst people whom Ginevra thought he would regard as below his station. Irritatingly, he mingled with everyone with enviable ease. Yet, whenever she felt he was getting too close to her, Ginevra moved away with surprising swiftness and allowed herself to dance with whomever asked and even had to engage a few of her lady friends on numerous occasions, just to escape from him. It irked her beyond rational thought that she should have to be on her guard in places that were supposed to be relaxing, that and people had begun to notice that he was placing a great deal of attention onto her, notable by his occasional gaze sweeping over her. She had caught him at it a few times in the space of one evening.

Finally, the evening they were to spend at Fortescue's arrived. Only those with good connections were allowed entry to the place, and apparently being an acquaintance of Lady Selwyn was enough to gain them entry, just as Patricia Stimpson had suggested. Ginevra hoped for a successful introduction to Patricia's St. Mungo's contact and an immense amount of dancing.

"Try to behave yourself here, Ginevra," Muriel whispered to her as they walked through the large oaken doors into the warmth and bustle of the assembly rooms. Just as with Lady Selwyn's ball, house elves moved about deftly with silver trays carrying various shades of drink and food. "This isn't a private ball hosted by a friend, please remember that."

Ginevra was not hoping to repeat what had happened at Lady Selwyn's ball at any rate, so she did not respond unkindly to her aunt's pleas. She had also made more of an effort this evening, which Muriel had been delighted by, particularly as she noticed that her niece had chosen to wear the silk emerald green gown Muriel had her fitted for not two weeks ago. Her long hair had been pulled partially up into a bun, with the rest flowing down her back in soft ringlets. Tonight was as good a night as any to meet this potential sponsor. Her spirits were perfectly amiable until Ginevra noted the familiar white blonde hair of Malfoy amongst the throng of people, and had to suppress the sudden urge to hex him.

She could not believe her misfortune to be followed once more by Malfoy, if that was what he was doing and Ginevra was certain it was. She was also certain her aunt had something to do with it as well; Muriel must be tipping him off as to their every movement, for how did he know where she would be on any given evening? Despite this, Ginevra could not fault his determination. Perhaps he was not following her as she supposed, perhaps he was truly desperate in searching for a wife as the gossips said.

"You know, Ginevra," her aunt's penetrating voice cut through her thoughts abruptly as they sat themselves in an advantageous location with a clear view of everyone and everything. "If you tried harder, you could ensnare the Malfoy boy, I have no doubt."

"I can tell you, Aunt, that is the last thing I want," she replied confidently, knowing full well that Muriel would disapprove of such a decided assertion.

"You shouldn't allow this petty childhood rivalry to get in the way of such a handsome match," Muriel said with her customary look of condemnation.

"It is not that, I can assure you," Ginevra insisted, having to resist the urge to scoff upon noticing the gaggle of girls practically falling over themselves to get a place beside the wizard in question. "It is that perpetual state of arrogance that follows him around. Besides, you know I have no fortune to tempt him with."

"My dear, you don't need a fortune to tempt someone as rich as him," Muriel said carelessly as if she believe his money magically appeared. "At any rate, I knew full well what the expense would be were I to bring you into society."

Ginevra flushed with embarrassment, unable to stop the reaction. "Aunt, I couldn't possibly let you -!"

"I am a hundred and twelve, dear girl, you cannot tell me what I can and can't do," her aunt said in a clipped voice, apparently decided on the fact that she would have to sacrifice some of her money. "And why should I not favour you? How else can you expect to marry decently?"

"Truth be told, I wasn't expecting to marry after Harry -."

"Nonsense! Be damned to Harry Potter, he isn't the only wizard on this Earth, Ginevra," her aunt said bluntly. "With a face like yours and your connection to the Order, it surprises me that you have not yet had any offers of marriage!"

Ginevra laughed at that, still feeling overcome by her aunt's gesture. "Perhaps it has something to do with my last name being Weasley?"

Muriel did not reply to that and Ginevra could only assume that her aunt did in fact agree with her statement.

"Miss Weasley?" a voice called to her. Both women turned to see a thin man addressing them. He was sallow-featured with mousy-brown hair and a weak-looking mouth. Ginevra could already see the look of consternation on her aunt's face at his approach. "Forgive me, I know we have not been formally introduced, but my name is Eric Thorpe." He bowed to them both in a cordial manner that still did not seem to placate her aunt's obvious dismay.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thorpe," she said graciously, nodding her head courteously.

"I have been asked by my friend, Miss Stimpson, to inform you that she has been unable to attend this evening and therefore unable to keep her promise to you," he said solemnly, which did nothing for his features but make him appear even more sallow. "She asks me to tell you that an urgent matter has arisen at the Ministry, but she would be more than willing to uphold her promise to you at a later engagement."

"Thank you, Mr. Thorpe," Ginevra said with a smile, a little saddened by the news as that was what she had been looking forward to, but nevertheless pleased that Patricia still wanted to introduce her to her contact.

"Miss Stimpson will be having a dinner party in a few weeks time, where I will be in attendance, so we can be formally introduced then," Mr. Thorpe explained. "No doubt an invitation will be extended to you, Miss Weasley."

Ginevra's eyes widened in realisation. "Are you from St. Mungo's, Mr. Thorpe?"

"Indeed I am, Miss Weasley," he said with a gracious smile. "And I look forward to meeting you properly as I have heard a great many good things about you."

"I am glad of it. But, please, allow me to introduce you to my Aunt," she said politely, standing now to address him. He was almost exactly the same height as herself, she noted. A small man, he was indeed.

"Please do," he replied genially.

"This is Muriel Prewett, she is my great-aunt. I am staying with her during the season," Ginevra explained.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Prewett," Mr. Thorpe said obligingly, tipping his head.

Muriel merely nodded in response, and Ginevra supposed she was trying to figure out whether or not this tiny man was wealthy enough to be considered for her niece. That, or she had already decided that he was not worth her time. The thought made her feel exasperated. "Please take a seat with us, Mr. Thorpe."

"Oh no, I cannot," he declined respectfully. "Unfortunately, I have prior engagements here already, Miss Weasley, and I cannot neglect them for too long. However, I look forward to meeting you again at Miss Stimpson's dinner party. I should like to know you better in friendlier surroundings."

Ginevra smiled at this, hopeful of what may be lying ahead of her, the scholarship at St. Mungo's being almost in her grasp. "I understand completely, Mr. Thorpe, however I would like to thank you for introducing yourself to us."

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Weasley," he said with a smile, bowing to her again. "Good evening to you both." With that, he walked back from whence he came, disappearing into the crowds of people.

"Are you still chasing this scholarship, Ginevra?" her aunt said, annoyance in her tone. "And that man seemed quite off. I think it was very rude of him to introduce himself to us in that manner, very unconventional."

"I cannot rely on getting married, Aunt," she said with a sigh. "And I have wanted to be a Mediwitch for some time now. It is a well-respected career." Ginevra decided that she was not in any mood to have an argument with Muriel, not when they had been so genial prior to Mr. Thorpe's appearance. "I am going to take a turn about the room, Aunt."

"Very well, please do not make a fool of yourself," Muriel said coldly.

Ginevra set off, rolling her eyes when her aunt could not see her, and found a few familiar faces with which she stopped to talk here and there. Her book was almost filled up with dance partners begging for her hand upon the music starting. She was certain that her aunt would now be off in a corner somewhere with one of her friends, most likely Lady Selwyn, plotting to match her up soon before she could pursue her career. The next dance would also be starting in several minutes; her first partner would be awaiting her arrival, and she liked to be punctual. Before she could move off, a tall figure blocked her path.

"You are a hard lady to keep track of, Miss Weasley," a familiar voice said.

It was only a matter of time before he finally cornered her. "Perhaps I make a point of that, Mr. Malfoy," she replied civilly, attempting to sidestep him but only to be blocked by him once more. Now she looked up at him, noting how handsomely dressed he was.

"Do not be so hasty as to leave me just yet, Miss Weasley," he said with humour in his voice. "I came this way to request you to dance with me on the next, if you would have me?"

Ginevra faltered at this question and she looked him directly in his cool grey eyes, as they seemed to be searching her own in anticipation of an answer. "I am engaged on the next," she finally replied, trying to be as cordial as possible though she desperately wished to question his motives.

His smile faltered at her answer, and she presumed he had been expecting an instant acquiescence. "I had forgotten your popularity, Miss Weasley, but permit to ask which dance you will be free to lend me some of your time?"

She could no longer contain herself. "And why do you wish to dance with me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked as calmly as she could.

Malfoy appeared to be taken aback by such as question as his eyes widened momentarily, but then he grinned at her. "To make amends for my previous behaviour," he replied openly.

"You have already made amends, Mr. Malfoy, your written apology was sufficient," Ginevra answered, still calm, but shocked by his own steady reaction to her forwardness.

"It seems I cannot lie to you, then," he said, still with that smirk upon his face. "Truthfully, I merely desire a dance with you, Miss Weasley. Does that answer satisfy your curiosity?"

Ginevra stared up at him, dumbfounded almost. "No, it does not, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, looking away to break the intensity of his gaze and suddenly she became very aware of exactly how much effort she had put into herself this evening for some reason. "I heard you abhor dancing, why should I be singled out?" she managed to say haughtily.

Malfoy chuckled and stepped closer to her than she deemed necessary, but still appropriate enough for their surroundings. She refused to step back either, she would not show any sign of weakness. "You judge me wrong, Miss Weasley," he murmured softly. "I abhor dancing with inadequate partners, not altogether."

"And you believe me to be _adequate_ , Mr. Malfoy? In what way, may I ask?"

Again, Ginevra could tell he was surprised by her mode of questioning by the way he paused before answering. There was even a slight hesitation there. "I... observed you dancing at Mrs. Cholmley's party the other evening..." he said this as though he had been caught doing something he ought not, but he carried on in confidence nevertheless, "and you move with proficiency and grace, talents many witches lack. Incidentally, they are the two thing I only ask for in a partner."

Ginevra arched an eyebrow at such an admittance from a Malfoy, whom she believed would have been hard-pressed to pay any type of compliment to a Weasley even if his life depended upon it. "You must feel genuinely guilty, Mr. Malfoy, to pay a Weasley such a compliment," she said humorously, rather enjoying the moment no matter how odd it was. "That must have hurt you."

"It did not," he replied honestly, a hint of a smile on his lips. Ginevra had expected him to grow angry at her mocking, yet he seemed to find it amusing. "And I do not approach you because of any guilt I may feel, however ungentlemanly I behaved."

Ginevra laughed then, noting with a small degree of alarm how his eyes dropped to her mouth in that instant, only to return to her eyes when he realised what he was doing. "It is understandable, I suppose," she continued, "I doubt you consider me to be a lady in your description."

Malfoy shook his head. "Again, you have me wrong. I would not ask a witch to dance unless I considered her to be a lady, I have a reputation to uphold," he replied steadily.

"Well, your apology is accepted, Mr. Malfoy," she said with finality, attempting to sidestep him again and only to be stopped once more. "You have more to say?"

"Only to reiterate my original question, Miss Weasley, have you forgotten?" he asked, a slight frown pulling his features. He was obviously quite determined.

"I do not know that I have enough time to dance with you, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a fruitless attempt to throw him off from her. She did not wish to refuse him explicitly for that would no doubt reach her aunt and Ginevra would not hear the end of it. "And shouldn't dancing with me cause a stain on your impeccable reputation?"

"There would be no stain," he replied, humour returning to his voice. "I am very wealthy, Miss Weasley, I am sure you have heard. Having such wealth shields me from many social disgraces. If you do not wish to dance with me, Miss Weasley, I shall not begrudge your refusal."

Ginevra looked back at him, astonished by his own frankness. Shocked though she was, she did admire such a thing in a society that frowned upon forwardness, particularly as she was so obviously that way inclined herself. "You speak very freely, Mr. Malfoy," she finally said. "I envy that."

"And why should you envy me of that?" he asked. "Have you not been speaking freely with me this entire conversation?"

Ginevra blinked at him. "I... I suppose I have," she replied, a little taken aback. How could she speak so frankly to him? They were barely acquainted, and she could see no way out of dancing with him now, at least not in a way that would be deemed appropriate. What if he were to tell her aunt of her behaviour?

"I see you are worried now," he chuckled. "You believe that I will tell on you? Perhaps I would have done ten years ago, Miss Weasley, but your honesty interests me. It is hard to find others who are willing to speak their minds in society."

"Many others cannot afford to give offence wherever they go, Mr. Malfoy," she replied shortly. "That is what one risks by speaking their mind. I am fortunate enough to have been taught that speaking one's mind is a healthy pursuit."

"Not in this society, it isn't," Malfoy replied with a smile, "but I shan't tell on you, Miss Weasley, as long as you agree to dance with me."

"So, now you are resorting to blackmail?"

"I didn't think it was going to be this difficult to get an answer from you, so, yes, I am blackmailing you."

Ginevra sighed and retrieved her book from her skirts, not out of fear of his telling her aunt on her, but out of a need to be rid of him. She needed to meet her dance partner in a matter of minutes. "The last two dances are available, which should you prefer?" she asked in an attempt to be courteous now.

He reached a hand out for her book. "I shall sign my name accordingly, Miss Weasley." Ginevra handed it to him as he retrieved a small quill from an inside pocket and watched him sign his name. Now it was final, no going back. "There, I look forward to our dance." Malfoy handed back her little book with a smirk, bowed and left her standing alone.

Ginevra glanced down at his signature and gasped. He had claimed her for both dances.

* * *

As the evening wore on and Ginevra had danced an innumerate amount of times with a vast array of wizards, she had grown quite conscious of the gaze of Malfoy. He had stood at the edges of the dance, as so many young men did when deciding upon whom they would dance with later on in the evening, yet his stare seemed to only be focused upon her and it actually made her wish for their dance to come all the more quicker. The reason for this was so that she could question his behaviour. That and his presence intrigued her beyond what was rational; his obvious interest in her sparked so many questions she wished she could ask, but even being as blunt as she was, Ginevra knew there were some boundaries that should not be crossed.

Whilst she had been dancing with a tall, dark-haired wizard, who seemed rather charming, Ginevra did notice Zabini approach Malfoy and enter a conversation that looked as though it irked the latter. On more than one occasion, Zabini gestured in her direction, so she could only conclude that they were talking about her. This served to pique her curiosity even more, the consequence being that she lost the favour of the dark-haired man she had been dancing with through lack of interest and conversation.

Finally, the last dance before her engagement with Malfoy came to a close, yet he had disappeared into the crowd a while ago, perhaps having tired of waiting as he did not seem to have engaged himself to another witch. Her partner, this time a sandy-haired gentleman, escorted her away from the dance floor and they parted politely.

"Miss Weasley," a voice spoke gently in her ear, causing her to jerk in surprise.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said courteously, recovering from the surprise of his approach, "the dance is not yet ready to start. And I am in need of refreshment." Ginevra wondered at his eagerness to meet her so soon, but she had an inkling that he may have thought she could renege on their engagement.

"Then allow me to escort you," he offered, his arm held up for her to take. Ginevra glanced at it momentarily, but decided that now would be a good time to question him if the conversation allowed, and accepted it with a slight hesitation. "You are a strange witch, Miss Weasley. It seems you are forcing yourself to be in my company when I am not compelling you to do so."

Ginevra looked up at him, her eyes wide. "It seems you have forgotten that you blackmailed me earlier, Mr. Malfoy," she pointed out.

Malfoy laughed at that. "Yes, I did, but I did not mean it," he said in humour. "I am not the child that I was, Miss Weasley."

She pursed her lips at this, a little annoyed by this admission, but she continued. "If I did not wish to be in your company, then I would not be allowing you to escort me to the drinks table," she replied simply, returning her gaze ahead of her, though she could feel Malfoy still looking at her.

"Then why do you appear so anxious?" he questioned as they reached the refreshments. He promptly ordered a house elf to fetch her some water with the air of someone who was used to making such orders.

"You mistake tiredness for anxiousness, Mr. Malfoy," she answered with ease as she received her water from the house elf with a 'thank you'. "I have been dancing for most of the evening."

Malfoy chuckled. "I had noticed your popularity."

Ginevra laughed shortly in turn, humoured by his interpretation of popularity. "It is not popularity," she replied. "I am the new witch in society; the wizards are merely weighing me up and judging me, just as you were earlier, to see whether or not I am worthy of their attention."

"That is a bold statement from someone who claims they cannot speak their mind so freely," he pointed out, blatantly side-stepping her obvious point about his own attentions.

"It is a widely accepted fact, a well-known fact," she said confidently, placing her water down on the table and allowing him to escort her back to the dance floor.

"But it is not a fact that _I_ am weighing you up and judging your worthiness, that is your opinion of me," he said with laughter.

"Then what is your meaning in dancing with me, then? Why were you looking upon me so long earlier as I danced?" she pressed him as they took their places in the set.

Malfoy looked down at her in seriousness, the laughter gone from his face. "I told you, I merely desired it, I have no other design. And you interest me, Miss Weasley."

Before she could question him further, the dance began and they said nothing further to each other on that topic. Ginevra could tell that he was a learned dancer, he had the elegance and grace that many of her previous partners had been lacking. She could not help but be intrigued by him even more at his admission to her. What could he be thinking? Why did he wish to associate himself with a Weasley? A family that he had so despised and reviled as blood traitors. It could not be because he wished to use her connections to the Order to gain some sort of acclaim in wizarding society as he had been forgiven for his family's crimes some years ago now. Ginevra could not make him out at all and it annoyed her as she was so used to working out others' motives with relative ease. And still he gazed upon her without any kind of shame, his eyes not giving anything away as he did so however.

The boldness of his stare drew her in more than it should have, and she found herself glancing at him at more than she liked. It was his eyes; so silvery in colour, so cold, and yet as before, she could tell there was a warmth in them. It was puzzling and she no longer wanted to think about it.

"I see that you are judging me, Mr. Malfoy," she said abruptly, needing to end the glances and thoughts.

"What gives you that impression?" he asked with raised eyebrows, obviously surprised by her statement.

"No wizard stares that long without making some kind of judgement," she explained as he twirled her in one swift movement. "Nor any witch."

Malfoy shrugged almost indiscernibly and chuckled quietly. "Can a wizard not admire the beauty of a witch without fear of reproach?"

Ginevra faltered a little at this. Why would he say such a thing? Surely he did not mean it. It seemed like such a thing Malfoy would say to flatter those around him, but she was not some wealthy witch whom he needed for whatever reason. "I do not reproach you," she finally replied, realising that she may have paused for longer than was normal in general conversation. "I am only pointing out that you have, in fact, made a judgement of me."

Malfoy laughed again, amused by her logic it would seem. "I cannot fault that assessment, I have made a judgement of you, but one cannot help making one such judgement."

"Many people place such a judgement of beauty so frequently now that it cannot be taken so seriously," she replied thoughtfully, attempting to understand whether or not he was being truthful. If he was, Ginevra did not know how well that information would sit with her. She didn't want Malfoy thinking her beautiful in any capacity.

"I am not one such person, I can assure you," he said seriously. "I do not give false praise, whatever you may think of me, Miss Weasley."

Ginevra paused before she spoke again, a little taken aback by the assertiveness of his response. It seemed, unfortunately, that he was telling the truth. "I did not intend to make light of your comment, Mr. Malfoy, I was merely making an observation. I... apologise if I have offended you."

"There is no need to apologise," he replied in a calm voice. "I have made the observation myself on numerous occasions. But, I do believe that you have such a low opinion of me as to think I would give false compliments."

"You are very forward to think that you know my opinions so well," she said in a hard voice. "It is almost improper."

"I thought you favoured frankness," he said, a slight smile appearing at the edges of his mouth as they moved about the dance floor.

"I do. But it seems you are taking specific liberties with me, Mr. Malfoy," she answered humourlessly. "Is that because you believe that I am not fully aware of the intricacies of social graces?"

"I have offended you," he said, now solemn. "That was not my intention at all. Please, forgive me."

Ginevra was again surprised by his behaviour. Everything about Malfoy now was not how she had known him back then. He would never have asked for forgiveness, he would have delighted in causing offence to whomever he had bestowed it upon without a second thought. "I was under the impression you could afford to offend people without having to ask for forgiveness," she said pointedly.

"You have a sharp wit, Miss Weasley," he said quietly, a smile again quirking at his lips. "However, you are the last person I wish to offend. I only feel I can speak my mind to you as you expressed a wish to do the very same."

Ginevra hesitated. "So... you give me leave to speak openly?"

"Nothing would please me more," he said in a bland voice.

"I fear that I should ruin our dance," she replied matter-of-factly.

"We have another dance to pick up any ruined pieces," he replied swiftly.

Ginevra stopped herself momentarily, allowing herself to focus on their dance before she decided to say anything so rash. The dance had been pleasant and enjoyable, their conversation had interested her, did she wish to ruin that, even if it was just Malfoy? But, that was the problem. This was Malfoy she was having a pleasant dance and an honest conversation with; it was quite unnerving. Ginevra had not encountered a wizard she felt she could speak honestly to in society for the past several weeks, and yet she only felt she could be frank with Malfoy because she did not have any real respect for him. She had to address that.

"In truth, then," she said slowly. "My opinion of you is not so low that I would have refused to dance with you. In fact, I have no real opinion of you at all, aside from the fact that I believe you to be an unjustifiably arrogant hypocrite." As she spoke, Ginevra could feel her face growing warm, not out of embarrassment but more because she had never been so rude to someone who was not a member of her family. It was a new experience, and rather thrilling. "That being said... I will be civil towards you as your station dictates."

Malfoy stared down at her, but showed no sign that her words had affected him. Ginevra had observed that he was just as proficient at hiding his emotions as he was at dancing. "I would rather you were civil to me because you want to be, not because your aunt will most likely scold you if she found out to the contrary," he said steadily, though not in a manner that suggested she had offended him. "And may I ask why you see me as hypocrite? I can understand the arrogance, but I do not see that I have committed any hypocrisy."

"This is not a pleasant conversation, Mr. Malfoy," she said, nervousness taken hold of her at the mention of her aunt. Ginevra did not fear her aunt, but she did not want to sit through a lecture on propriety for the umpteenth time. "We should discuss something more suitable."

"Small talk bores me," he said in a firm voice. "As I am sure it does most people. No, I would rather continue our conversation."

Ginevra sighed, tearing her gaze away from the other dancers to meet his again, a sudden fire igniting within her. If he wanted to know, then she would tell him. "As you wish," she said in a lofty voice. "Your affiliation to Voldemort's cause was well-known -."

"You speak his name?" Malfoy gasped, a sliver of fear passing over his normally unreadable face.

"Yes, and what of it? He is dead," she answered with nonchalance.

Malfoy stared down at her, awe evident in his face as it was apparent that he had never heard the name spoken so blithely, without any care as she had just done. "Many people still cannot speak it," he explained, though the both of them knew it was unnecessary for him to do so. "Please, continue."

"Thank you," she said courteously. "Your affiliation to his cause was well-known, and I was a first-hand witness. Yet, now it is against the law to discriminate against muggle-borns and muggles, suddenly you seem to have had a change of heart."

Malfoy considered her for a moment, she presumed he was wondering whether or not she was worth explaining himself or his actions to. "I supported that law most vigorously, Miss Weasley," he replied calmly, his face set in seriousness. "I cannot deny my political leanings as a boy, misguided as they were, and I will not make excuses for how I behaved back then. There is nothing I could say in regards to that which would change your perception of me. However, my 'change of heart' occurred during my sixth year -."

Ginevra shook her head. "You do not need to explain yourself to me, Mr. Malfoy."

"I am aware of that, but I must be allowed to defend myself," he replied, his tone firm again. "I started seeing the Dark Lord for what he truly was in my sixth year, and then the war came and my mind was made up. The man was nothing but a sadistic tyrant, who cared nothing for his followers nor their families. The change his return had caused in my father was near unbearable and I questioned the stories my parents had told me of his first rise to power, they had made it sound fantastical, and yet here they were forced into obedience in their home and living in fear."

Malfoy paused for a moment, and Ginevra waited for him to resume. Remembering the details of Voldemort living in your childhood home was probably not the easiest of memories to recall, and she found that she felt a little pity for him, despite herself, despite telling herself she would not pity someone like Malfoy who had initially championed Voldemort and his return.

"In the end, family was all that mattered to us, to me," he continued. "Blood purity seemed so insignificant compared to the suffering caused by the war. When I saw the devastation the Dark Lord had caused, I thought I could push away any disagreeable thoughts and feelings as I was so used to doing, but this time was different. My own family were shamed, but still whole. All around us were families torn apart by death on both sides, and it sickened me," he said with disgust. "My mother and father had always taught me that there was nothing more important than family, staying together and staying loyal. That surprises you, doesn't it?" he asked bitterly.

Ginevra had obviously been unable to hide her shock at his statement, so knew there was no point in lying to him. Not that she would have done anyway. "It does. I always thought of Death Eaters as heartless with no loyalty but to Voldemort, even then it was always questionable."

Malfoy laughed softly. "Well, now you have a different perspective. Not everything is so clear cut, Miss Weasley, even villains can love their children," he said candidly. "I will admit that I became a patron of a charity supporting displaced children to assuage my own guilt in the role I played, but I never claimed to be selfless."

Ginevra nodded, surprising herself by actually understanding his admission. Despite herself, she found that she believed him and that he had even earned a little of her respect, and yet she wondered why he felt he had to explain himself to someone who was so unacquainted with him, let alone a Weasley. Then she realised that a crowd of people were staring at the pair of them, and was mortified to notice that the music had ended. Ginevra dropped her hand from Malfoy's immediately and stepped back.

Malfoy, once again, did not seem affected in the slightest by the embarrassment as he offered his arm to escort her from the dance floor.

"Are you not at all embarrassed?" she asked in a quiet voice as they passed the curious stares of the crowd.

"Not at all," he replied with a smirk as they walked past a group of women whispering furiously to each other and gesturing openly at the pair of them. "It simply means we enjoyed each other's company, does it not?"

Ginevra made a disapproving sound.

"So you did not enjoy it then? Do you have a criticism for my dancing or my conversation?" he asked with a smile. Ginevra was well aware that he was attempting to tease her.

"I did not say that at all," she replied in a bland voice.

Malfoy simply smiled and guided her into the dining room where they would be having their supper. Ginevra had heard a great many wonderful things about the food at Fortescue's, the elaborate food sculptures, the expensive tastes and flowing wine. Though she dared to think that any of the food served here could rival her own mother's cooking.

"What are you doing?!" she gasped as she sat down, noticing Malfoy taking the chair next to her.

"Taking my supper with you," he replied as if it was something they had just discussed and mutually agreed upon. "I cannot leave here tonight knowing you have such a low opinion of me, Miss Weasley, so I shall do all in my power to change your mind."

Ginevra baulked at him; he truly was taking their agreement of frankness to heart. "And how does my opinion of you affect you in the slightest?" she said, scandalised.

Malfoy smiled slowly at her and leaned in close, though she did not move back as her mind requested her to do. "Because, as I have said before, you intrigue me," he answered simply.

Ginevra found she had no witty reply or bold statement to respond with, he had rendered her speechless. Thankfully, the food appeared before them in a vast array of white porcelain dishes with various displays of meats on show, exotic vegetables she had never seen before carved into strange creatures and stacks upon stacks of sugary pastries and cakes. She used her wand to levitate her food over to her plate, but was irked by Malfoy's still presence beside her.

"Are you not eating?" she asked, attempting to sound stoic.

"I was being courteous, Miss Weasley, and waiting for you to select your supper first," he explained.

"That is overly courteous, Mr. Malfoy," she said shortly, and she began to eat the food she had selected; slices of juicy hog roast, tender vegetables and then a small slice of cake for afters. All the while, Malfoy sat beside her and ate his without so much as a word, which she found rather irksome considering he had placed himself there to continue conversing with her.

She decided she was not going to be the one to speak first, and simply looked about the table as she ate, attempting to find something fascinating in the others around her. In exasperation, Ginevra could see Muriel giving her an approving smile, but she deftly ignored her aunt when she started to mouth something to her. Ginevra was of a mind to enjoy her food in peace from Muriel's demands, no doubt she was pressing her to enter into conversation with Malfoy.

"I saw you speaking with Eric Thorpe earlier," Malfoy said suddenly. "How are you acquainted with him?"

Ginevra noticed a guarded look cross Malfoy's face as he spoke of the other wizard. "I am not," she admitted. "He introduced himself to us in the absence of my friend, Miss Patricia Stimpson."

He nodded slowly at this as though deep in thought. "You did not find that improper?"

"No, I did not," she replied firmly. "He was relaying a message from Miss Stimpson, who had promised to introduce Mr. Thorpe to me this evening, but could not attend."

Malfoy did not respond to that and Ginevra thought she sensed some disapproval from him. "And does Miss Stimpson intend to introduce you formally?"

"She does," Ginevra replied, growing curious at his mode of questioning. "Do you know Eric Thorpe yourself?"

"I did, briefly, through the charity I am patron of," he answered, but he offered no further detail and the conversation ended there.

After what Ginevra deemed to be appropriate, she made to leave the dining table and search out her aunt, who had disappeared some time ago, but Malfoy grasped her hand.

"I hope you are not thinking of leaving the place, Miss Weasley?" he said, an eyebrow arching.

Ginevra had to suppress an exasperated sigh. "Of course not, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "I keep my engagements, so you have no need to worry. I am just going in search of my aunt, I fear I have neglected her all evening."

Malfoy seemed placated by her assurances and allowed her to go in search of Muriel, which did not prove difficult as most people were still in the process of gorging themselves on second helpings and guzzling wine.

"Aunt," she called to her.

"My dear child, why do you look so distressed?" Muriel asked as her niece sat down beside her, surprise showing in her wrinkly features.

"I am not distressed," she reassured her aunt. "Mostly confused."

"Confused?" Muriel asked with a frown. "About what, may I ask?"

Ginevra leaned in closer to her aunt, allowing herself to bring her voice down to quieter tones. "I am confused regarding Mr. Malfoy's attentions to me," she said, certain that her face was a picture of mania. "Why is he paying me attention? Have you promised him something?"

Muriel laughed heartily at her niece's admission, smiling like a sly fox who had just spied an ignorant rabbit in its path. "I have heard of nothing else all evening, Ginevra! You have done remarkably well on your own; I have offered no such incentive to Mr. Malfoy, his attentions to you are all on his part alone."

Ginevra sighed, she had hoped there was some ulterior motive. "So, what is the meaning of this behaviour?" she asked again, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice this time.

"I am not to know. Am I in his head, child?" her aunt snapped, but she remained visibly happy at the turn of events. "Perhaps he finds favour in your looks. All I have been hearing this entire evening is how Mr. Malfoy looks upon Miss Weasley a great deal, and not a disagreeable trace in his eyes at all!"

"I knew of that, Aunt," Ginevra said impatiently. "But that is absurd. How can a Malfoy find a Weasley attractive?"

"How did your mother find your father attractive?" Muriel said bluntly. "He was handsome enough, but he had no money, no decent connections. You cannot choose whom you are attracted to, Ginevra. The poor boy has taken a liking to you and all you can do is behave so disagreeably about it."

"You... you think he has taken a... liking to me?" she asked, almost fearful of the answer.

"Of course he has taken a liking to you!" her aunt said too loudly for her liking. "What wizard gives such singular attention to a witch he has no regard for?"

Ginevra shook her head, flabbergasted. "I haven't done anything to encourage this behaviour, if anything, I have been abominably rude to him!" Muriel gave her niece a look of disgust and swatted her hand with the silk fan she was holding. "Ow! Aunt, he has not been exactly proper with me either. At any rate, he seems to enjoy the rudeness."

Muriel looked indignant. "Some wizards are wont to think this way, but it works in your favour since you so obviously cannot keep your thoughts to yourself," she replied steadily enough, though Ginevra could tell her aunt was annoyed. "However, I would advise against being improper to him, he needs to view you as a decent and respectable wife, Ginevra."

"I don't want him to view me as a respectable wife!" she whispered furiously as she saw people beginning to enter the ballroom again. "I don't want him to view me as anything!"

"Do not be foolish, child," her aunt warned. "You are lucky to receive any attention from him. Make the most of this. This is the way forward, not this silly notion about St. Mungo's."

"It is not silly -!"

"Is Mr. Malfoy not handsome, Ginevra?" Muriel cut across her impatiently. "And answer me this time."

Ginevra sighed in frustration. "Yes, he is handsome, Aunt, but I do not see -."

"I see it very clearly, dear girl," her aunt said quietly, a far off look in her eyes. "I see you in charge of Malfoy Manor, throwing sumptuous balls for the sake of it, associating with influential witches and wizards daily... is that not a nice thought, niece? Of course, you shall have a few children to keep you occupied as well, hmm?"

Ginevra stared in astonishment at her aunt. "You see all that from my admission that he is handsome?"

Muriel clucked her tongue. "Do not mock me, child," she reprimanded. "If you think he is handsome and he has no objection to bestowing his attentions upon you, then why not encourage such an advantageous match?"

Ginevra pursed her lips. "There is more to marriage than just simply being attracted to one another, I should prefer to be in love with my husband," she said stiffly. "Mr. Malfoy is not someone whom I could dare to fall in love with."

"As I said before, you do not choose," Muriel pointed out, obviously not planning on backing down any time soon. "And what is so wrong with Mr. Malfoy that makes you think so little of an alliance with him?"

Ginevra did not answer straight away, mostly because she could not think of a reasonable response. Malfoy had explained himself earlier so well regarding his past allegiance to Voldemort that it would be unfair to cast him down on that issue. "He is a Malfoy, I hardly think my parents would look upon the match so favourably as you do," she replied simply. "And he is arrogant."

"Your parents can say nothing considering their elopement," Muriel said obstinately. "And I see no arrogance in him; he donated his Norfolk estate to that charity he is so fond of! That is not arrogance."

Before Ginevra could respond to that surprising piece of information, the wizard in question came upon them.

"I trust you are fully refreshed for our next dance, Miss Weasley?" he said, offering his hand out to her.

Ginevra smiled politely at him, pushing away the alarming thoughts his attentions had provoked. She did not want Muriel to find some fault in her behaviour and lecture her about it later. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy," she said genially, taking his hand and standing. "I have a strong disposition."

"I do not doubt that for a moment. I shall return your niece safely to you, Madam," he addressed Muriel, who seemed to be beside herself at the fact he would be dancing with Ginevra a second time.

"I thank you for your kind words, Mr. Malfoy," she gushed. Ginevra had to resist the urge to gag. "I am certain that my niece will be safe with you."

After that, he escorted her back to the dance floor and took their positions wordlessly. Ginevra felt him encircle her waist with a strong arm, pulling her a little closer to him, but she did not want to protest; that would only mean that his gesture had affected her in some way. That, and she could not deny a feeling of warm security there. But, she did not want to dwell on Malfoy too much and focused on their dance instead as the music started. Ginevra wanted to keep him firmly in that place of her mind that was reserved for people she did not particularly wish to acquaint herself with. Worse still, she noticed many onlookers had gathered around the dance floor, and most seemed to be gawping at the pair of them. The embarrassment of the way their last dance had ended came rushing back to her.

"You are unusually quiet, Miss Weasley," he said abruptly. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing," she answered a little too hastily than she had intended.

He smiled down at her, and Ginevra felt something stir deep inside the pit of her stomach, something almost close to a warm, pleasant feeling. "Oh, but I know there is," he murmured. "Your face is very easy to read."

"It is?" she asked, trying to deflect the original question.

"I am afraid it is," he replied, continuing to smile at her and never taking his eyes from hers. "At the moment, you appear to be rather frightened."

"What on Earth should I be frightened about?"

"Only you can know that," he replied, humour in his voice. "Perhaps you are frightened of associating with me."

"I am not someone who is easily frightened, Mr. Malfoy," she replied shortly.

"Perhaps you could be frightened by the idea that associating with me could tarnish your reputation?"

They parted momentarily before she could reply, the dance forcing them to change partners. If anything, her low station should tarnish his reputation, not the other way around. "Why should you say that?" she asked as they reunited.

"In your eyes, I am just a Death Eater's son, slavishly devoted to the Dark Lord still," he explained. "Should I not ruin your reputation amongst your Order friends?"

"I said nothing of the sort, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a firm voice. Ginevra would not allow him to put words into her mouth. "And you have been forgiven in that respect, by the Minister of Magic himself."

"Yet you still have such opinions of me."

Ginevra stared up at him, rendered near speechless by his turn of conversation. Apparently her words to him earlier had affected him more than she thought. "I did not say I thought you were devoted to Voldemort," she finally said defensively. "I said that you may still have those ideas about blood purity... but, my opinion may have changed."

Malfoy looked down at her with one of those unreadable expressions on his face. "It has?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what has changed it?"

Ginevra hesitated at first, wondering if she should let him know that she knew of his generosity. "I-I had heard that you donated an estate in Norfolk to that charity you were speaking of earlier."

Malfoy did not say anything straight away and it seemed that he was a little irritated by her admission. "And how do you know about that?"

"It is just gossiping one hears at such places," she said airily, deciding not to expose her aunt.

"It is not common knowledge," he said in a stiff voice, "and myself and my partners would be grateful if you did not divulge that to anyone else."

Ginevra was taken aback by this request. "And why ever not? Would it not elevate your reputation?"

"I did not do it for that purpose," he explained. "And I do not really care for my reputation in any case."

"You should if it is a decent wife you are seeking," she replied with a small smile on her lips. "You must at least maintain some level of decency and good reputation yourself."

"You know of that, too?" he asked, but this time his stoic behaviour was replaced with good humour again. "Is there nothing you do not know about me?"

"A great deal, I daresay," she replied honestly. "But that one is common knowledge amongst nearly everyone in attendance."

Malfoy shrugged. "I suppose a young and wealthy wizard entering society will attract such rumours," he said carelessly. "But, tell me, why are you here? It does not seem like you are trying to attract a husband?"

"Again, your frankness borders on impropriety," she pointed out.

"I believe we are both in a position to speak freely to each other without regard of causing offence," he said steadily. "So, tell me, what is your purpose in society?"

Ginevra sighed, feeling she should at least explain why she was here when she knew exactly his reasons for being here herself. That, and he had divulged many personal things to her earlier. "I am here to search for sponsorship into St. Mungo's," she told him. "That is why Miss Stimpson offered to introduce me to Mr. Thorpe. She believes that he will give me the sponsorship that I need."

A dark look crossed his features momentarily, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. "That is a piteous situation to find yourself in, Miss Weasley, but I suppose you do not wish to attract any pity, least of all from me," he said, his tone changing drastically as though the mention of Mr. Thorpe had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"No, I do not ask for pity, there are many people in the same position as me," she replied.

"Surely you could just use your connection to Potter?" he asked abruptly. "Then you wouldn't have to beg favour from Eric Thorpe."

"I have never had the intention to use Harry for his name, and I will not start now," she said firmly.

"That is very admirable, but you are making yourself vulnerable," he said, an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

Ginevra thought it an odd thing to say. "I fought in the last war against Voldemort," she pointed out. "I believe I can handle myself."

With that, their conversation ended and Ginevra felt quite put out by it. Malfoy seemed to be inexplicably irritated for the rest of the dance, a burning look in his usually cool grey eyes. Despite their silence, Ginevra couldn't help but look for his eyes and found their gazes clashing frequently. The look in them was quite enticing, to say the least.

Abruptly, the music ended and the dance disbanded.

Malfoy escorted her back to her aunt, his height allowing him to move through the crowd with perfect ease.

"I should hope to have the pleasure of dancing with you again, Miss Weasley," he murmured, grasping her hand and kissing her upon her knuckles. This time he allowed his lips to linger as he looked up at her. The sight made her feel warm all of a sudden.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she remembered to say, curtseying to him and successfully disguising her now flushed face. "Good evening to you." He bowed to her and bid her aunt farewell, within a matter of moments he had disappeared in the throng of people. Ginevra watched him go with an odd mixture of feelings, one of them almost being akin to disappointment.

"Well!" Muriel exclaimed happily. "The evening shan't get any better, my dear. I believe it is time to leave. Although, I had hoped Mr. Malfoy would have offered to escort us home... but alas!"

Ginevra had thought he might have done so herself, but he had surprised her with a simple goodbye. Except, perhaps his lingering kiss hadn't exactly allowed the goodbye to be that simple. Nevertheless, the carriage ride home felt like a relief, and yet she still could not get the image of his silver grey eyes out of her mind no matter how hard she tried.

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 **A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please don't forget to review! Thank you to **Floridacutie, Funstuff05, Guest,** and **arielgenevieve** for your reviews and praise. It is greatly appreciated.


	3. An Unlikely Interference

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

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 **The Marriage Market**

 **Chapter III**

 **An Unlikely Interference**

Aunt Muriel was pleased for Ginevra in that she had secured herself an engagement from Miss Patricia Stimpson, what she was not so pleased about was the appearance of Mr. Eric Thorpe. A man who had the correct reputation, but one who was unlucky enough to lack in physical attributes and a sizeable fortune. Ginevra personally only cared for the man's reputation as a board member of St. Mungo's, a reputation that could certainly sway those who made decisions on who attended the school there. Yet, her aunt's obstinacy had proved to be a rather irritating obstacle for the entire evening of the dinner party; countless opportunities had arisen for her to speak with Mr. Thorpe, but Muriel had seemed to be able to thwart every single one with a well-placed introduction here, or a sudden faintness there.

Worse still, Draco Malfoy had somehow secured an invitation to the dinner party. How, Ginevra did not know, as she had heard of no prior acquaintance between himself and her newly acquired friend. But, there he was, sitting in serious conversation with some of the other wizards. She noted how he avoided contact with Mr. Thorpe, as well as the hateful looks he shot at the man, and all it did was pique her curiosity to the point where she was near enough dying to know what the connection between the two wizards were.

Finally, as the evening became relaxed and everyone had settled into polite and intimate conversation, did Ginevra manage to snatch a seat beside Mr. Thorpe. The moment was chosen carefully and she had had to decide between conversing with Mr. Thorpe or finding out what her aunt and Mr. Malfoy were discussing so suspiciously in the corner. In the end, she could not let this opportunity pass her by and so now she found herself where she had intended to be for the entire evening.

"Ah, Miss Weasley!" Mr. Thorpe said with enthusiasm, his beady eyes lighting up. "I am glad we were able to be introduced properly. Miss Stimpson is a dear friend of mine and she has spoken very highly of you."

Ginevra had not expected this at all, to be spoken of so favourably by people she had barely had time to get to know well. But she pressed on. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "But, I do find myself in a less than favourable -"

"Do not mention such things, Miss Weasley," Mr. Thorpe spoke across her, a smile still at his thin lips. It managed to give a shade of strength to his unfortunately weak-looking chin. "Miss Stimpson has given me all the details, and I would be happy to sponsor someone who was so instrumental in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But let us not discuss that here..." he lowered his voice now, "you must dine with me at my house in Park Street."

Ginevra felt uneasy about this, and yet she was not sure entirely why. Her aunt was right in that he had no physical attributes, he made up for that in a seemingly happy personality, but there was a gleam in the corner of his eyes that suggested something else. "I will let my aunt know of the invitation, Mr. Thorpe, thank you for giving it so freely," she said instead, not wishing to appear hesitant. "But I do not know where Park Street is, I have not been in town long, you see..."

Mr. Thorpe fumbled inside his dinner jacket and withdrew a card. "There," he said, handing it over to her. "You should have no trouble finding me with that." Ginevra then saw him visibly hesitate, his eyes flickering over to her aunt for the merest of seconds. "I don't want to offend you, Miss Weasley, far from it, but I do believe these matters are best discussed without your aunt."

"I cannot possibly dine with you without a chaperone, that would be unthinkable," she said quickly.

Mr. Thorpe kept his smile still, no evidence of being offended by her remark. "Of course, of course, but I am not suggesting you come without a chaperone. If you were to come with Miss Stimpson, that is perfectly proper," he spoke with a practiced air, though Ginevra supposed that it would have been obvious that she would react in that way. No respectable lady would not. "I find... _older_ witches are not quite as forward thinking as their younger counterparts..."

Ginevra hesitated for the second time and thought to herself that it was true. Aunt Muriel did not particularly encourage her aspirations. "As long as Miss Stimpson will be attending?"

"Yes, yes... of course," he said, smiling with unconcern. Apparently there was nothing to worry about according to his behaviour.

"Good, I will await your invitation, Mr. Thorpe," she said, pleased with the arrangement.

Mr. Thorpe bowed to her in an odd, enthusiastic way and left Ginevra to her own hopeful thoughts. It finally felt that she was moving forward, the only suppressive thought she entertained was knowing how disappointed her aunt would be, but that could not be helped. She wasn't doing this for her aunt or anyone else.

"Do you not find that man to be unpleasant, Miss Weasley?"

Ginevra turned and found that Malfoy was sitting directly behind her, nursing a drink casually in his hand. He had his eyes fixed on her, quite obviously determined for an answer. "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "I find it unpleasant to listen in on others' conversations."

"It could not be helped," he explained, standing up to place himself beside her. "I came to ask you to join me in a dance, however you were engaged so I waited."

Ginevra had not realised music was playing or that the chairs and tables had been pushed to the side to allow room to dance. There were a fair amount of couples going down a dance now. "But now you have missed your opportunity to dance, Mr. Malfoy, there was no need to have waited."

Malfoy placed his drink down on the mantelpiece they were standing beside and stepped closer to her. "You didn't answer my question," he said, "do you not find that man unpleasant?"

Ginevra narrowed her eyes, suspicious now of Malfoy's interest and pressing on the subject. "Why are you so interested in Mr. Thorpe?"

Malfoy did not answer immediately, and she knew instantly that there was something between the two wizards, something that Malfoy did not want to speak openly about and which had him quite openly showing disgust. "I am not interested in _him_ , I am only attempting to show you that his manners are not what they seem."

"Mr. Thorpe's manners appear to be just fine to me, Mr. Malfoy," Ginevra said with confidence, looking Malfoy straight in the eyes. If the idea was not completely absurd, she would have said that he was jealous. "And, what business is it of yours, anyway?"

Malfoy stared down at her, a stern look on his face, a look that seemed to say he would have loved nothing more than to be able to tell her that her business was his business. The thought made her curious of his intentions, even more so than she had been before, as the thought of him having any intentions involving her was simply ridiculous. "I am only a concerned friend, Miss Weasley," he finally replied.

Ginevra was stunned momentarily into silence by his admission that he saw her as a 'friend'. "Well," she said, regaining her voice, "your concern is noted, Mr. Malfoy, but I assure that I can look after myself."

"I have no doubt of that," he said, but Ginevra was not entirely convinced that he believed her, even then as he decided to drop the subject. "A new dance is about to begin," he gestured to the lined up couples behind her and held out his hand to her. "Will you dance with me?"

Ginevra agreed with less reluctance than she would have liked from herself, but she kept calm by repeating over and over that she was simply curious about his connection to Mr. Thorpe, and his intentions to her. It did not help that he had decided to approach her for a dance when it turned out to be one of the more intimate numbers; even in such polite society, witches and wizards had to find some way to touch without a dent to their pure reputations. Usually, this dance was reserved for those courting or already engaged and she could feel her face flushing with embarrassing realisation as the many faces of the gathered guests were turned to her and Malfoy, many whispering to each other. Worse of all was the look of glee apparent on her aunt's face.

"This is one of the better dances, wouldn't you agree?" Malfoy asked suddenly as he leaned in close to the crook of her neck, his cool breath brushing over her delicately. A wild thought entered her mind in which she imagined that he might take liberties with her, liberties that made her feel flushed once again. "Or do you not?"

"Oh, er, yes... yes, it is," she answered, too distracted to really give a proper answer.

"Though I do prefer a waltz," he carried on as though she hadn't spoke at all, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. "But society still reserves that for engaged or married couples, much too scandalous for us to be _that_ close to one another."

"Something tells me that such scandal would not bother you, Mr. Malfoy," she said pointedly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He was so obviously baiting her.

"Oh, it wouldn't," he replied with ease. "But I can imagine that you would be bothered."

"I feel as though we have had this discussion before," she replied, allowing him to twist her around. "You can afford scandal, I cannot."

Malfoy really did smirk this time. "What if you could?"

Ginevra understood that this question was not as simple as he made it sound, she was suddenly fully aware of the thought that Draco Malfoy could be asking her something she was terrified to hear. "W-What do you mean?" she stuttered.

Malfoy seemed oblivious to her sudden realisation as he looked down at her, smiling still. "What if you had all the money and status in the world? Would you be bothered by scandal?"

She did not dare break his gaze, she wanted to see any hint of emotion that flickered across his face. "No, I suppose I wouldn't," she replied honestly. "But, unless I marry into money, that is very unlikely to happen." Ginevra was disappointed to note that he betrayed no emotion, though she was not sure why she should be disappointed at all.

"That is why we have society, Miss Weasley, to ensure we all meet the right match and keep the wizarding world turning through the right connections and fortunes. Marriage is the backbone of this society," he said in a serious voice. "Marriage and children. But I remember that this is not the reason why you are in society."

"I agree that it is what makes most witches and wizards leave their homes in the morning," she admitted, wondering where this conversation was going. Malfoy did not strike her someone who entered into idle chitchat. "As you have said, I am not one of them, yet."

Malfoy spun her just then as the music carried on playing, and pulled her back into him for a split second, not long enough to be deemed inappropriate. "Yet?" he asked as they resumed the natural rhythm. "So, you do want that in the future? Children, as well?"

Ginevra grew suspicious of this line of questioning now, most people assumed that all witches and wizards should want children. "Well, yes, of course," she finally answered, unable to think of anything awful coming from it. "I am from a large family myself."

Malfoy struggled to hide a grimace at the mention of her family, but he managed well enough for her not to call him out on it. "You would want a large family too, I gather?" he pressed on, though she detected a little reluctance.

"Not that large," she said. "Perhaps two or three children."

Malfoy visibly relaxed his face from the almost grimace he had held previously. "That is manageable," he said, though more to himself.

"What about you, Mr. Malfoy?" Ginevra asked, and he appeared a little taken aback at her curiosity.

"Me? Well, one son would do," he said, recovering himself. Evidently he had not expected her to turn the questioning onto him. "I have the Malfoy name and estates to think about. My mother and father were always adamant on that point. But, if my wife wanted, say, two or three, then I would be more than happy to oblige."

The dance ended just at that moment before Ginevra could think of anything to say back to him, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for food. She allowed him to escort her away from the makeshift dance floor and back to her aunt, all in silence, though she could tell he felt satisfied with how their dance and conversation had went. As he muttered unheard words to her before parting, the crashing realisation of what had just happened hit her like a herd of charging Hippogriffs.

Draco Malfoy wanted her as his bride.

Images flew unbidden into her mind as she sat stock still beside her aunt. Images of her aunt sitting in the front row, a wide toothless grin on her old face, as she watched the wedding she had orchestrated between her niece and the richest wizard in all of the British Isles; then of said wizard kissing her passionately... it was so ridiculous! It was like something out of one of the twins' Patented Daydream Charms! Still more images flew around in her head, now depicting a bunch of small white-blonde headed children with her eyes.

"Ginevra!" snapped Aunt Muriel. "Get that absurd look off your face now, you look like a Flobberworm! What is wrong with you?"

Ginevra pulled away from her thoughts immediately, her heart racing and feeling very hot. "I am not feeling well," she said, standing so abruptly that her aunt had to follow suit to cover any indiscretion. "I am not feeling well at all, can we leave?"

Muriel stared at her, a genuine look of concern on her face. "Is something the matter, Ginevra? Has Mr. Malfoy been untoward with you?" she said this all very quietly, turning her niece away from any prying eyes. "I am sure he is only showing his admiration for you -."

"No, Mr. Malfoy has been perfectly cordial with me," she cut across quickly, not wanting to speak of Malfoy for any length of time at the moment. "I am just not well, the dancing has tired me," she lied.

Aunt Muriel seemed to buy her sudden illness and made their excuses to those in attendance and to their hostess, Miss Stimpson. Ginevra was grateful for the fact that Malfoy had seemed to have disappeared since their final dance, as she did not want him to think he had caused her to leave so abruptly.

Once inside the carriage on their way back to the townhouse, Muriel gazed at her as she looked from the small window out at the passing houses. "Now we are away from the gossips, Ginevra, I want you to tell me why we really left that party."

"I told you -."

"And I am not a fool," Muriel interrupted. "Do not insult me, Ginevra, by thinking I believed your excuses."

Ginevra sighed. She knew she would have to tell her aunt otherwise she wouldn't let her rest at all, but Ginevra knew exactly what her aunt would say once she voiced her worries. "I think Draco Malfoy intends to ask for my hand in marriage." Ginevra said all of this slowly, more for herself to fully grasp the strangeness and incredulity of the situation.

As expected, her aunt reacted with glee. "This is what I have been telling you, niece!" she clapped her hands together with excitement. "You must tell me all that has finally made you open your eyes to that which was s obvious to everyone else."

Ginevra baulked. "E-Everyone else? W-what do you m-mean?" she gasped out.

"Well, of course everyone is talking about it, Ginevra!" Muriel rolled her eyes in exasperation. "If it had been anyone else but Mr. Malfoy, I would have broken up your dance this evening. All the guests were talking of how he looks upon you, my dear!"

Ginevra swallowed, hard. "This... this is ridiculous!" she said furiously. "Can you really not see how ridiculous all this really is, Aunt?"

Muriel looked as stubborn as ever and Ginevra knew the words that would come before her aunt even opened her mouth to speak them. "Why should it be ridiculous, child?" she laughed in that condescending manner she loved to affect. "You are of good Prewett stock, you fought in the last Wizarding War, and you left Hogwarts with agreeable results, why should you not be a prize to a wizard such as him?"

Ginevra narrowed her eyes and folded her arms tight in front of her. "You know very well what I refer to, Aunt," she said, her voice firm. "Society places much value on station in a marriage. If Malfoy marries below his station, surely that is a scandal his reputation cannot survive? Besmirched as it is. Why should he risk such a thing?"

Muriel tsked impatiently, rolling her watery eyes. "Mr. Malfoy's reputation is not as besmirched as you think it is, Ginevra, he is forgiven," her aunt replied shortly. "It is only in few social circles now that marrying below one's station is a scandal, most witches and wizards know they cannot be so choosy."

Ginevra could feel herself growing frustrated more and more by the minute; discussing this with her aunt was never going to appease her, and she had known that as soon as the conversation had started. But, who else could she confide in? The ridiculousness of it was bad enough, but the mortification she would feel amongst her friends and family would be too great. Malfoy may be forgiven by the rest of polite society, but she doubted her parents would have a favourable view of his designs upon their only daughter.

"I have been invited to dine at Mr. Thorpe's," Ginevra informed her aunt, deciding to change the subject since she would not find any solace in Muriel's words.

Her aunt's face immediately became disdainful. "You are not to socialise with that wizard, Ginevra," she spoke in a stern manner, so much so that Ginevra was quite taken aback. "On no account are you to dine with him or speak with him."

"Why in the name of Merlin not?!" she asked loudly, resisting the urge to stand in defiance for fear of hitting her head on the carriage ceiling. "Because he is not as rich as Malfoy? Because he isn't handsome enough?! Because his connections are not good enough for you?!"

Muriel looked furious, but Ginevra did not care; nothing could compare to her own fury at being stopped in her ambition. "Because the man is disreputable! I have it from Mr. Malfoy himself that this wizard is a stain upon polite society!" she shrieked. "And you are not to fraternise with him! At all! Do I make myself clear?"

"I will fraternise with whomever I choose!" Ginevra bit back.

Muriel looked as though she were fighting with herself, her lips kept opening as though about to say something but shutting just as quickly, then finally she burst out, "I will see to it that you are sent back to your parents, then you shan't have a hope of finding that sponsor you need."

Ginevra stared at her in disbelief, speechless at her aunt's severity and they stayed in silence for the entirety of their journey, not even daring to look upon one another. Anger at her aunt remained with her for some time until she remembered that Malfoy had interfered once more. What made him think he could force his way into her business? What really made him believe that she wanted him in her business? She had made it quite clear to him that she had her own ambitions to fulfil, which were hard enough without him messing it all up.

Once within the confines of her own bedroom, Ginevra did not immediately go to bed. No, she had to get the anger out of her system before she could even ponder sleep, no matter how tired she felt. She sat at her writing desk facing the window which looked out onto the street below, now dark as the gas lamps had been put out, and pulled a piece of parchment toward her, dipped her quill into the waiting inkpot and began to write purposefully.

 _Mr. Malfoy,_

 _Politeness taught to me by my parents forces me to warn you that what you are about to read will likely cause you great offence, and I would like you to know that I am not sorry to have done so. I believe this should be a lesson learned to not become involved in other people's affairs._

 _Your presumption in warning my aunt against Mr. Eric Thorpe is entirely inappropriate and wholly unreasonable. Your interference into my business matters have now prevented me from making any connection to the wizard in question, a wizard who could have given me the opportunity I so desire._

 _Whatever you have told my aunt has caused her great anxiety; she is of a mind that he must not be met with under any circumstance. As such, I have not taken kindly to your interference, if that was your meaning. The witches you have kept company with in the past may or may not have tolerated such behaviour from you, but I can assure you that I will not, especially as you are someone who is so unconnected with me and my family._

 _I expect that we shall meet in society again, but do not expect that I should be inclined to speak with or dance with you again, should you request it._

 _Ginevra M. Weasley_

She did not reread the letter, nor did she have any doubts about sending it as she rolled it up and enclosed it, ready for sending. In fact, she thought, she would send it straight away. Ginevra called her owl over from her perch and attached the letter to the owl's waiting leg, she stroked her smooth head before sending her out of the window and into the night.

Now, she could sleep peacefully.

As her luck would have it, Ginevra's sleep was not as peaceful as she had anticipated due to the insistent tapping on her window. Once she had come out of that groggy state between sleeping and waking, Ginevra looked across her writing desk to her window to see her owl tapping away and hooting gently, her beady eyes on her. Another letter was tied to her leg. Jumping from her bed, Ginevra rushed over to the window and allowed the owl to swoop in, closely followed by a flurry of snow. She looked outside at the ground and could see that the ground was coated in a smooth white blanket of freshly fallen snow, but the orange sun slowly rising to the east above the many houses in the distance would quickly melt it.

Her owl had perched herself on Ginevra's desk chair and held her leg out for her to remove the new letter. "Thanks, Athena," she muttered. "The house elves have put more food up there for you." The owl hooted softly at her and fluttered back up to her perch to happily eat whatever had been laid out for her.

Once she had sat herself back on her bed, Ginevra allowed herself to look over the letter she had unfolded. Immediately she recognised the small coat of arms in the top right hand corner of the expensive parchment. She could tell it was expensive as it was hardly yellowing yet and felt thicker than any parchment she had ever written on. It was from Malfoy. Even just thinking his name awoke the anger that had been slumbering during the night.

Curiosity got the better of her stubbornness as she wondered what he could possibly have to say to her now, and she began to read.

 _Dear Miss Weasley,_

 _Firstly, you have not offended me at all. I fully understand your grievance with me considering that you do not know why I troubled myself to get so easily involved in your affairs. For this, I do apologise. However, I do not apologise for successfully preventing a meeting between yourself and Mr. Eric Thorpe, a wizard many do not know as well as I do._

 _Perhaps you will not think so low of me once you understand why I had to prevent your meeting with that wizard._

 _The charity that I am patron of works towards re-homing children orphaned by the war, and it is a charity that is very important to me for reasons I have already discussed with you. Two years ago, I made the decision to relinquish one of my estates in Norfolk to the charity, to give the children a decent home to live in whilst waiting for adoption. Unfortunately, it was this decision that led to the unsavoury connection with Eric Thorpe._

 _Eric Thorpe resides in a country house not far from the orphanage and he had come to know of it through the many fundraising balls held by the founders of the charity, a Mr. and Mrs. Boot. His wife had become very friendly with Eric Thorpe in a very short time and he was encouraged to become involved with the charity. Having someone involved with the charity who was on the board at St. Mungo's would be beneficial to the functioning of the orphanage. If we are to obtain Ministry approval to continue operating the orphanage, we would need a formal agreement with St. Mungo's stating that they would have staff dedicated to the orphanage's needs. With Ministry approval, we would then gain further publicity for the children._

 _We were promised the staff by Thorpe and thought nothing further of it, up until I contacted St. Mungo's paediatric department and was told they had no record of any such agreement. Unable to keep it to herself any longer, Mrs Boot revealed that Eric Thorpe had been forcing her to give him money in exchange for his recommendations to his employers and to the Ministry. He had been subtle at first, only asking for small amounts and passing them off as necessary sweeteners, but the demands became larger and less polite. Mrs Boot was desperate for the orphanage to be a success, coupled with her mounting guilt at being taken in by such a man, it made it quite difficult for her to tell all to her husband._

 _In total, Mr. Thorpe managed to relinquish thousands from the charity itself, as well as from the Boots' own personal fortune and it soon transpired that he had not spoken one good word or any to St. Mungo's or the Ministry about the orphanage. However, we could not prove any of it, nor risk the image of the charity for fear of bad publicity. So, you see, Mr. Thorpe has been allowed to continue about his daily business, swindling other unsuspecting philanthropists._

Ginevra stared down in shock at his words, wondering whether or not she should believe them. It seemed plausible enough; he had mentioned people her brother had been acquainted with, not socially, but easy enough to question on the particulars. Needless to say, she would not do any such thing to spare the couple's embarrassment and it seemed Malfoy did not want the information to be bandied about lightly.

 _You may also wonder how I knew Mr. Thorpe had struck up an introduction to you at the first ball we danced together at Fortescue's. Whilst I was waiting between dances, I managed to overhear Mr. Thorpe in the company of people with an equal lack of respect as himself. What I overheard led me to seek out your aunt immediately to save you from any possible embarrassment. In short, the man insulted your knowledge of social decorum, whilst going on to reveal his unacceptable designs on you. I am sure you can imagine the rest. It was that which motivated him to approach you and, I daresay, had no intention of wishing to help you further your career. With this in mind, I could not allow such a wizard to be alone with you, let alone anybody else._

 _If you believe this to not be my place, then I apologise, but again I do not apologise for the outcome._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

Ginevra sat against her pillows and reread the letter again, needing to take it in word for word. She had believe Malfoy's devotion to the charity to be false, a ruse to maintain his already shaky standing in society. Yet, he had given over one of his own estates to be turned into an orphanage, an estate that would have generated a sizeable income. It was no doubt an enormous gesture, one that could be deemed to be superfluous if just attempting to maintain one's image and name. It certainly was an odd feeling to believe Malfoy could actually be telling the truth... His behaviour to her had not faltered, nor had there been any indication that he was ever being false with her. It was this that made her feel a little ashamed at her harsh assessment of him.

And, if Malfoy were to be believed, she had nearly been duped by a wizard of such low cunning and non-existent morals. A wizard who had believed he could have had any chance at seducing her. It did not embarrass her as Malfoy thought it might, it angered her. It angered her that people such as Mr. Thorpe believed she was below them, but not low enough to desire.

Even worse still, she was back where she had started; with no hope of admittance to St. Mungo's and no hope of becoming a mediwitch.

* * *

Over the next few days, Ginevra had found herself rereading Malfoy's letter at least half a dozen times, so much so that she was able to recite it by heart. Bizarrely, the words seemed comforting to her; here was someone who had also been taken in by Mr. Thorpe, and yet, it was not only that which drew her to his letter. He wrote well for a man, she kept telling herself, but sometimes her mind would whisper to her in that conspiratorial way reminding her of their last meeting in which she had become flustered by an imminent proposal of marriage. Why that should float into her mind whilst reading his letter, she did not know. She really felt as if she did not know herself these past few days.

"Ginevra! Ginevra! Muriel's excited voice jerked her out of her reverie, interrupting Ginevra's umpteenth reading of Malfoy's letter, which she shoved away hurriedly into her desk drawer as she heard Muriel's footsteps rushing up the stairs. "Ginevra... good gracious, child! I have been calling you these three minutes! You have been behaving very oddly lately, you are not unwell are you?"

Ginevra shook her head. "No," she assured, though she accepted that her recent aloofness did seem odd. When she didn't get her own way, Ginevra would normally cause a great fuss, especially if she felt there was a great injustice in being denied. "I am perfectly well."

Muriel looked unconvinced as her eyebrows rose and she folded her arms. "Now, I know this business with that awful Thorpe has angered you -."

"No," Ginevra cut in. "Truly, I am fine about all that now, aunt. I trust your judgement."

"My dear child!" Muriel said, apparently in a state of shock as she sat in one of the vacant chairs by Ginevra's fireplace, in which was an inviting fire keeping the chill at bay. "I must say I am astonished at such a turnaround... what has changed your usually headstrong mind?"

Ginevra gave a small smile. "I had time to think," she answered simply, no longer wishing to discuss the matter, nor to concede that she had received a lengthy letter from Malfoy. A man her aunt believed she ought to be courting. "But, what has got you so excited, aunt?"

Immediately, her aunt jumped from the chair and produced a letter from within her dress pocket and placed on Ginevra's desk. "Have a read of that and you shall see," she said, gleeful as she clapped her hands. "It is a great honour! Go on, read it!"

Ginevra picked up the square piece of parchment and knew immediately who it is was from; it felt just as expensive as the last letter he had sent to her address. "Dear Mrs Prewett," she read aloud at her aunt's urging. "It would be my honour to extend an invitation to you and your niece, Miss Ginevra Weasley, to attend a private dinner at my townhouse this evening at six o'clock. My address is on the reverse. Please RSVP. Yours faithfully, Draco Malfoy."

"Such an honour!" her aunt said breathlessly, again clapping her hands with glee and looking at her niece expectantly.

"Are we to attend?" she said quietly, already knowing the answer.

Muriel tsked impatiently and snatched the letter from Ginevra's hands. "Of course we are to attend!" she said loudly as she turned the letter over. "His townhouse is in one of the most fashionable parts of London and there will be fashionable people in attendance as well, I have no doubt of that. Oh! I must tell Lady Selwyn at once. Oh! And I must send an RSVP immediately!" With that, she bustled out of the room and left Ginevra to contemplate on her own.

Surprisingly, she did not feel reluctant to go. It felt odd to be going to his townhouse for dinner after she had been rather rude to him, particularly as she had not replied to his letter. At the time, it did not feel as though it needed a reply, but to show up at his residence as though no exchange had happened between them felt strange. Another feeling crept upon Ginevra; panic. Evidently, she was not going to dissuade her aunt from going, which meant she would need to find something to wear and, for the first time she had been in society, she felt concerned with how she would present herself. This made her feel even more out of sorts for some time.

"You must wear your sapphire blue gown, Ginevra," Muriel insisted as she returned to her niece's bedroom and pulled open her wardrobe doors. "You know, the one with the white lace on the sleeve? It is all the fashion and where better to wear it than at Mr. Malfoy's? And you must wear that elegant shell comb with the pearls..."

Any sense of panic she had felt about her attire vanished, how could she have forgotten that her aunt would take this little exercise over from her completely? "Yes, aunt, whatever you wish," she conceded as she stood up, preparing for the onslaught of clothing that would hit her very soon.

"Good, I am glad you are not arguing about this, Ginevra," she said, then she looked suspiciously at her niece, stopping mid- wand wave.

"What?" Ginevra asked.

Muriel's eyes narrowed further. "Why are you not arguing about this? Are you sure you are well? Has something happened?"

Ginevra baulked at the question and was certain Muriel noticed this change in her demeanour as a little smirk twitched at the edges of her aunt's thin mouth. "No," she replied simply. "Nothing at all has happened? Should have it?"

Muriel cackled, instantly causing Ginevra to inwardly sigh. She knew something was up. "So, your feelings for Mr. Malfoy have not changed?" she asked in a sly voice. "I expected you to insult him, especially as you found out it was his interference which swayed my opinion of that ghastly man. An interference, I might add, which he was well within his rights to make. It is a duty of a gentleman."

Ginevra pursed her lips, willing herself not to reveal any emotion to her aunt. "My feelings for Mr. Malfoy are as they were... indifferent," she replied calmly. No matter how cool her demeanour, it did not stop the smug smile from gracing Muriel's wrinkled face.

"Of course, Ginevra," she said simply, blatantly appeasing her niece. Ginevra accepted it without argument, she was glad for the conversation to be over with. "Now, where is that dress? Tarly!" Muriel called to nowhere in particular. Almost instantaneously, a plump house elf appeared beside her aunt, the elf's face turned up in anticipation of its orders. This house elf was female and had served her Aunt Muriel for as long as Ginevra could remember, though the elf never showed any sign of aging and was happy with her mistress. "There you are, Tarly," Muriel said at once. "Ginevra and I will be dining out today and I need Ginevra's blue dress, the one with the white lace?"

The elf bowed graciously low, so low it was as if she folded in upon herself. "Tarly is knowing where Miss's dress is!" she said excitedly, disappearing as soon as she had appeared. Ginevra had come to realise that the house elf enjoyed playing dress up as much as her aunt did and braced herself for the hours ahead.

Her aunt insisted on making her try on many other dresses as they waited for Tarly to reappear with the anticipated blue gown. Ginevra had known that it would come to this, but she did not argue if only to keep her aunt happy. And happy she was. Muriel was completely in her element, throwing dresses here and there, chattering away about how Malfoy was certain to have a _particular_ interest, how could he not when he gave them such _particular_ attention? Ginevra was to capitalise on it as much as possible, no arguments. Every moment in Malfoy's house must not be wasted, she must allow herself to be free whenever he decided to pay his attentions to her, but she must not appear to always be available, that was the way to win a man. Ginevra felt all this was rather confusing.

In all honesty, she was now starting to feel rather nervous about facing him again as the hour drew ever closer. She kept thinking about how short-sighted her last correspondence with him had been and the thought of it caused her shame. The letter he had wrote her had served as a harsh awakening; how could she have been so judgemental of him when she claimed to be the exact opposite, the opposite of all that Pureblood hypocrisy? She had let her past experience of him cloud everything she thought he was now. Malfoy might actually be a good wizard.

At that moment, Tarly reappeared with the blue dress bundled in her arms. "Mistress, Tarly is finding the dress!" she announced breathlessly.

"Excellent, Tarly! Excellent!" Muriel exclaimed, grasping the dress at once and flicking her wand at her niece to remove what felt like the fifteenth gown she had put on. "Quickly, help me get this on Ginevra!" Tarly moved forward with excitement and helped her mistress put the dress on Ginevra and, with a few quick swishes of her aunt's wand, it tightened at the back and fell perfectly into place. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Just let me do you hair, Ginevra..." Another swish of her aunt's wand, and she felt her hair being pulled up. "Oh, that is the one! Come, look!"

Muriel grasped her arm and guided her towards the floor length mirror in the corner of her bedroom and Ginevra had never felt so elegant, even with the other dresses her aunt had bought for her. This was in a different class, or was it because she actually wanted to look nice? That thought shocked her again and she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind despite knowing that she had worn this dress before, knowing she had not felt half as beautiful as she did now. Her hair was in a braided bun at the crown of her head, with long ringlets descending down the back of her neck and inserted into the top of the bun was the shell comb her aunt had mentioned earlier.

"Very charming, though perhaps a little colour in the cheeks," the mirror advised in a snooty voice.

"Be quiet you!" snapped Muriel, turning Ginevra away from the mirror. "Perhaps just a little rouge to liven your complexion," she whispered. "Dear Merlin! It is five o'clock! Ginevra, do not do anything to ruin your look, I beg of you..." Her aunt rushed from her room and bustled down the hall, shouting for Tarly to follow her. The elf had been admiring Ginevra's dress up until that point.

Whilst she waited for her aunt to ready herself, Ginevra Summoned her cloak, tied it around her throat and made her way downstairs to the entrance hall. Her aunt would not take too long and would want to leave immediately, of course they would have to be early; they might get Malfoy to themselves before his other guests arrived. Thinking of Malfoy again brought back her feelings of nervousness, yet she had never garnered for his good opinion before, so why should she wish for it now? Why should she care for any kind of opinion from him at all? Yet, she did. Ginevra damned his letter and wished he had never offered her an explanation, wished that she could still believe him to be the man she had always thought him; selfish, bigoted, arrogant... Though, perhaps, the arrogance still remained.

* * *

Malfoy's townhouse was in Belgravia, a leafy section of London, the pavements were lined with trees and there was a small, locked park just across the road from the house itself. A park exclusively for residents only, though Ginevra doubted Malfoy ventured much in there as it would have been the favourite haunt of those rich Muggles who lived in the area in summer. It was a beautiful road, one that was evidently well-kept by the Muggles.

By the time they reached the townhouse, Ginevra was thoroughly bored with her aunt's ramblings and her patience was wearing very thing and so she immediately jumped out of the carriage, glad to walk up the steps just to get away from her aunt. She pulled her cloak tightly about herself as the chill winter air hit her throat and waited for Muriel to ascend the steps.

"Ginevra, there is no need to rush, we are quite early," her aunt puffed out as she finally reached the top, though Ginevra detected a hint of smugness in her voice. No doubt she was hoping for some time alone with Malfoy.

"It is freezing out here, aunt," she muttered in a bitter tone as she went to lift the brass knocker on the black-painted door, that was until the metal twisted to form the head of a small dragon and opened its reptilian mouth.

"Name, please?" it asked in a grinding, metallic voice.

Ginevra resisted the urge to roll her eyes; of course, he would have such a door knocker to impress his guests. But, as she tried to think negatively about it, she couldn't resist smiling instead. "Miss Ginevra Weasley," she answered, speaking directly into it, not really sure if she should shout at it or whisper, so she settled for a little in between.

There was a pause as both aunt and niece looked at each other. "You may enter," it said dully, and the black door swung open to reveal an invitingly warm entrance hall.

They both stepped inside, equally curious as to how the interior would be decorated considering the wealth of the owner. Ginevra had expected gold ornaments and unnecessary marble, but instead there was polished wood panelling along the walls, fashionable patterned tiling on the floor and an expensive-looking navy blue carpet ascending the stairs to the floors above. Muriel appeared to approve of the decor as she had no bad thing to say about it, though Ginevra suspected that as Malfoy was so rich, he must be an indicator of fashion and taste. Such was the logic of her aunt.

"Mrs Prewett." Footsteps had preceded the genial greeting, so Ginevra had prepared herself to be face-to-face with Malfoy in that matter of moments and commended herself on holding back her blushes. "Miss Weasley. Good evening." They bowed and curtsied as appropriate and nothing untoward passed between them, it was as though their correspondence had never happened, as if her scathing letter had never been sent. "Let me take your cloaks."

They obliged and, when he reached to remove hers from her shoulders, Ginevra felt her heartbeat quicken as his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her neck ever so slightly. Malfoy then gave the cloaks to a waiting house elf and then beckoned them to follow him into the drawing room, where a handful of other guests were waiting. Ginevra was glad to see a few familiar faces, including that of Demelza.

The drawing room was in much the same style as the entrance hall, but it contained a number of paintings depicting frolicking scenes in meadows and misty forests and had a large fireplace dominating the room.

"Dinner will begin shortly," Malfoy said to the both of them, "but, please help yourself to wine in the meantime." With that, he left them again as a doorbell resounded in the entrance hall.

"That is a shame," her aunt whispered bitterly. "His other guests were also very eager to get here. And I see that Zabini witch has been invited... a shame," she repeated before turning to Ginevra with a very serious look on her face. "Now, don't forget what I said. Make the most of this." She then left Ginevra to go and sit with Lady Selwyn, and immediately began whispering furiously to each other.

Ginevra made her way over to Demelza, who was sitting close to the fire and beaming with happiness, so much so that a simple look from her made Ginevra smile. "What is it?" she asked at once. "What has made you so happy?"

"This," Demelza said as she held out her hand in front of Ginevra's face. Sparkling on her ring finger was a large and shining diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds, all set upon a thin gold band.

"But, when did this happen? With whom?" Ginevra asked, quite shocked at this sudden engagement. She had not expected Demelza to be paired off so suddenly, or at all as a matter of fact. Not that Demelza wasn't pretty, but she had told Ginevra from the start that she was pursuing a career as a Chaser. Wizarding society was far more forward thinking than the Muggles when it came to women, but there were still many who thought that witches should keep house and tend to the children with wizards doing less in those areas.

"With Mr. Higgs," Demelza explained, a rosy tint spreading across her cheeks and nose. "He proposed to me at my family home, apparently he had already had the permission from my father for two days together! I am very excited, Ginevra. This was not at all what I expected when I came into society at the beginning of the season."

Ginevra nodded in agreement, glad her friend had brought that up. "That is what I don't understand," she said bemusedly. "How will you become a Chaser now? Will he not expect you to stay at home and keep his house in order?"

Demelza laughed as though this was nothing to be concerned about and waved Ginevra's concerns off. "Terence has a housekeeper for all that, many of the older and wealthiest families do," she explained, smiling. "And I have already told him that my pursuit to become a Chaser is going to be coming first. In all honesty, I think he was rather relieved as he has become accustomed to running things."

"How long has the engagement lasted? When is the wedding?" Ginevra asked.

"We have been engaged for near enough two weeks now, but my mother and father thought it prudent that we wait until now before announcing it publically," Demelza replied, rolling her eyes. "And the wedding will now be in two weeks time. I should be glad if you can attend, Ginevra, it will be at my mother's old family estate in Somerset."

Ginevra smiled at her friend. "I should be glad to come, Demelza, but I will have to ask my aunt, of course."

Demelza grinned suddenly. "Oh, your aunt will definitely want to come," she said knowingly, "especially when she finds out Mr. Malfoy is coming. I hear you have been making some connections in that area?"

"That is completely untrue," she said firmly, feeling herself blush. "I have danced with Mr. Malfoy a few times, but I have with many other wizards too."

"Do not worry, I am teasing you," Demelza laughed. "But I have heard some interesting stories concerning Mr. Malfoy," she said, lowering her voice. "Namely, that he is planning to court you."

Ginevra did not pretend to feign surprise, she already knew that Malfoy had designs upon her. It was more a case of what she would do about it, if anything at all. "Where did you hear this from?" she chose to ask instead of denying all knowledge.

"From my fiancé, who had it from Mr. Zabini," Demelza replied, her smile broadening. "Your lack of surprise tells me you have already been made aware of this?"

"I-I had my... suspicions," Ginevra replied, hesitant to discuss this in public, particularly when they were in the house of the man they were talking about. "But, it is nothing that I can't handle. I am not here to look for an advantageous marriage, no matter my aunt's designs."

Her friend gave her a placating smile. "Ginevra, I know that this is Draco Malfoy we are talking about," Demelza said, her voice lowering so much that Ginevra had to lean in closer to hear, "but think about the good you could do with his wealth. I know that sounds very cynical, but think on it. Let him court you if he wishes, this way you can get to know him. You know we are not so restricted as Muggle women, you will be allowed to be alone with him, at least until the sun sets."

"I thought you would be against his attentions to me," Ginevra said in shock, "yet, here you are encouraging me to desire it."

"Well, you are my friend, Ginevra, I know how much you want to be a mediwitch," Demelza said seriously. "With Mr. Malfoy's wealth, you could probably open your own practice if you wanted."

Ginevra frowned at her friend. "I am not going to use him just to get what I want, it isn't right, Demelza."

Her friend shrugged. "At least let him court you, see if you like him," Demelza repeated. "What is there to lose?"

Probably the respect of her family, her friends, the loss of her freedom, and that was just the start. Before she could impress any of this upon Demelza, the dinner bell rang and they were summoned into the dining room. Somehow she had managed to end up arm-in-arm with Mr. Zabini, which meant she would have to be seated next to him for the entirety of the dinner; her aunt's displeasure at this development was as plain as unused parchment. Clearly it had been her intention for Ginevra to be seated beside Mr. Malfoy, but that honour had gone to Mr. Zabini's cousin, Florence, and to Lord Selwyn.

The conversation flowed exceedingly well from all sides of the small group as each course was placed in front of them. Mr. Zabini could be well-mannered and an attentive listener when he wanted to be, it seemed; Ginevra had thought he would be just as aloof and haughty as he had been at Hogwarts. Ginevra felt that all her assumptions about her past classmates were proving to be woefully wrong. Florence Zabini, though beautiful and elegant, did not seem able to hold the attention of Mr. Malfoy for very long as he seemed deeply immersed in conversation with Lord Selwyn instead, yet when she did manage to snatch some words with him it made Ginevra feel as though she could stand up right now and apologise profusely to him for her harsh words in her letter. It made her feel angry at Miss Zabini and confused with herself.

"So, what brings you to London, Miss Weasley?" Mr. Zabini asked politely as the last plates on the table were cleared, leaving only glasses of wine. Ginevra explained the circumstances in which she had found herself in the capital with her Aunt Muriel, and how she was now looking for a sponsor at St. Mungo's. "Yes, I had heard how difficult it is to gain a place at that hospital as a mediwitch or wizard. It would be far easier to become a nurse, Miss Weasley, but something tells me you have greater ambition?"

Ginevra nodded in agreement. "You are right, Mr. Zabini," she replied. "It is all or nothing."

"An interesting philosophy to take, Miss Weasley," he chuckled, "it is much like my friend's." Mr. Zabini indicated Mr. Malfoy, who was seated at the head of the table, now giving his full attention to Miss Zabini. The sight of them, their heads almost together, made the anger bubble up inside of her again, but Mr. Zabini brought her back just as quickly as it had come as he continued. "He becomes much like that in his pursuits, though I have found compromise generally makes for a better and, perhaps, easier, life."

"An easy life would not be so interesting, Mr. Zabini," she replied simply.

He laughed at that. "You sound like him, now," he chuckled. "And I suppose it is true."

Ginevra took the opportunity to sip a little of her wine, as her companion did the same, before continuing. "And, may I ask what brings you to London, Mr. Zabini?"

He set his drink down and rolled his hazel eyes, both gestures telling her immediately that whatever he was in London, it did not excite him at all. "Well, I am accompanying my cousin, she would have hated me forever if I did not agree to escort her into town this year." Mr. Zabini said this with the air of something who did not really care whether his cousin spoke to him or not, giving Ginevra the impression that he had been forced to chaperone her, possibly by his mother. "And my friend down there pursues that elusive treasure many men seek."

Ginevra frowned at this, confused.

"The perfect wife," Mr. Zabini explained, almost laughing at the expression on her face. "Yes, you might look like that, Miss Weasley, it is a pointless pursuit."

"Do you not seek a wife, then? Is that not what most wizards of the right age mean to be doing?" she asked, steering the conversation away from Malfoy. The last thing Ginevra wanted to do now was look at him again and see him deep in intimate conversation with Miss Zabini, a witch who had an exotic kind of beauty she had could not hope to achieve. The fact that this bothered her only succeeded in bothering her further, particularly as she had really wanted to ask how long Malfoy had been looking for a wife and if her was near success. But, her rationale had gotten the better of her, and as well it had.

"Merlin, no," Mr. Zabini said with elation. "My mother is gratefully still alive; she is on her eighth husband now, and she has never been happier. I am free to remain a bachelor, for now."

"Well, marriage isn't everything," she pointed out.

"It is when you have an estate to run and an unwritten duty to continue the bloodlines." This time he spoke in a toneless voice, clearly finding the whole situation dull and tiresome. The bell rang again, signalling the end of dinner and the end of their conversation.

The party were moved into the adjacent parlour, a large room lined with many paintings and a great mirror on one side of the room, a comfortable looking sofa, a couple card tables and a magnificent black piano in the corner. The piano was immediately claimed by Miss Zabini, who began to sing sweetly and play with exquisite precision.

"That is a shame." Muriel had sidled up to Ginevra without her noticing, muttering indignantly. "She may be better on the piano, but I daresay your voice is ten times better than hers, no matter how much practice she has had. She could have at least asked the other ladies in the room for a duet."

"Aunt, there is no need to be spiteful," she sighed, though Ginevra did secretly agree wholeheartedly. Miss Zabini had obviously taken up the use of the piano to herself just to get the attentions of Mr. Malfoy, and the way she kept glancing at him confirmed this. Not that this mattered to Ginevra; Miss Zabini could look at whomever she liked.

"Oh, Ginevra! They are about to play Old Hag!" her aunt whispered excitedly as she grasped her arm. "Quick!" she said, tugging her over to the card table. "Go and seat yourself beside Mr. Malfoy!"

Ginevra tried to protest, but her aunt was deceptively strong when she wanted her own way, and she found herself pushed towards the group beginning to sit down at the card table. They all looked up at her expectantly, so with an inward groan, Ginevra took the only vacant seat next to their host since she could hardly walk away now.

"Good, that makes five!" Mr. Zabini said happily as he shuffled the deck of cards using his wand.

Demelza was sitting directly across from Ginevra and kept shooting her friend suggestive looks whilst the cards were being dealt out, no doubt because of who she was sat next to. Ginevra gave her a hard look, a stern warning to cease. It had not seemed to impress much upon Demelza because she continued in much the same vain for the duration of their first game, which finished unusually quick.

"Wait," Demelza said abruptly as the cards were being dealt for the second round of play, a sly grin playing on her round face. "Let's make this more interesting; the loser has to play a forfeit."

"Excellent idea, Miss Robbins," Mr. Zabini said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I already have the perfect forfeit in mind, if our host agrees?"

Malfoy looked suspiciously at his friend, and Ginevra could not really blame him considering the look in Mr. Zabini's eyes. "Fine," he said calmly, "as long as it doesn't involve some silly nonsense, like the last forfeit you came up with. I still haven't fully recovered... At any rate, I do have to repay you for that, so should you lose I expect you accept your forfeit."

Mr. Zabini looked positively gleeful as he rubbed his hands together before resuming dealing out the cards. "I will accept any forfeit you have for me with good grace, Malfoy, rest assured."

Ginevra was unsure as to whether she agreed with this turn of events; she had not seen many forfeits played out in polite society, but from what she had witnessed she knew they were simple excuses for people to behave in ways that would normally refrain from in public. As the forfeit was within the confines of the game, it wasn't to be taken seriously. Many courtships began from forfeits.

The game itself was more interesting than the first, all were determined to keep that dreaded Queen out of their hands and a lot of bluffing amongst the party caused some red faces. At one point, Lord Selwyn had dropped his hand and showed everybody seated that he had the Queen. Ginevra groaned inwardly at seeing it as he was seated to the right of her, which meant that she was in further danger of receiving the Queen so near the end of the game. To her horror, the Queen ended up landing in her hand on the next turn, but she kept her face free from emotion.

Smiling, Ginevra held out her cards to Mr. Malfoy, face down, and their eyes met. Her heart immediately began to quicken her blood as it had done when he had greeted her in the entrance hall earlier. Ginevra ignored it. Now was not the time to wonder at her body's reactions.

"I do hope your calmness is not a bluff, Miss Weasley," he said softly as he pulled a card. "I should hate to lose now."

Ginevra merely continued to smile as she looked back at her remaining cards. He had taken the Queen. Her smile broadened. Malfoy managed to keep his face blank as ever as he looked upon what he had chosen. She had to commend him for his ability to bluff his hand as the game went around a few more times. The group becoming more excited and loud as it drew to a close, all anticipating who should have to play the forfeit.

Finally, Ginevra had put down her final pair with one spare and turned to see Malfoy clutching his last two cards. She wondered if he had managed to pass on the Queen, but the look of contempt that had replaced the blankness told her that he may not have been very successful. Malfoy took her last card and made his final pair, and turned the Queen for all to see. The group erupted with laughter.

"Forfeit, Malfoy!" Mr. Zabini called over the noise.

The other guests had left their entertainment by that time to see what had been going on at their card table, and many of them joined in the laughter now and shouted their agreement with Mr. Zabini. Malfoy must do a forfeit, there was no backing down. Ginevra noticed that Miss Zabini had claimed a place directly behind Malfoy, as though waiting to claim him.

"Do be nice, cousin," she appealed to Mr. Zabini, a saccharine sweet look upon her face as she looked down at Malfoy.

"Oh, your cousin is incapable of being nice, Miss Zabini," Malfoy said, though it was in good humour.

Mr. Zabini raised his arms to appeal for silence, a smirk upon his mouth. "I've decided on a classic forfeit," he announced, obviously pleased with himself as everyone waited with bated breath. Ginevra could guess the kind of forfeit Miss Zabini was hoping for. "The old ones really are the best." Mr. Zabini was revelling in keeping his friend on his toes, that much she could tell. Ginevra also noticed how excited Demelza looked, a knowing look in her eyes. "Malfoy, you will be blindfolded, then you will attempt to find the prettiest witch in the room and bestow upon her a kiss."

A mixture of laughter and gasps of anticipation emanated around the room as Mr. Zabini finished his dramatic speech. Ginevra immediately felt her aunt's wrinkly hand upon her bare shoulder as it squeezed her; no doubt she felt that this was the opportunity they had been waiting for. A forfeit was one of the only ways in which it was acceptable for members of the opposite sex to be allowed any kind of intimacy in public outside of wedlock, as it was still within the game. It was not real life, and yet it was; Ginevra had not failed to notice the lingering look Mr. Malfoy had afforded her as he turned to stand from his seat, nor did she fail to notice the small smile playing at his lips. It filled her with a strange sense of unbridled expectation.

"Quickly! Take your positions everyone," Mr. Zabini called to the crowd as a black piece of cloth erupted from the tip of his wand.

The majority of the younger witches were falling over themselves, vying for what they seemed to think was the best position to be in. Ginevra simply stayed where she had been when she had risen from her chair at the end of the game and dared not think about what was going to happen next, nor about the firm beat her heart was making in her chest as Mr. Malfoy looked upon her again before he was blindfolded. Not that it mattered if he knew where any of the ladies were, for it was now customary to change positions in order to confuse him. Many of her peers had stayed firmly rooted to the spot, apparently desperate for a kiss from Malfoy.

"You should have stayed where you were, Ginevra," Demelza muttered next to her as silence fell over the room. And, seeing who had taken her spot, Ginevra was suddenly beginning to regret moving at all as Miss Zabini now stood there proudly, her eyes dark with determination as they leered at their quarry. But, why should she feel that way? Did she really want Malfoy to kiss her? It was absurd, but so like her. Ginevra knew she had always had a rebellious streak in her; that was all this was. Malfoy was forbidden, her family would disapprove wholeheartedly and he was so much further up the social ladder that it would be impossible for her to ever ascend. That was fine, she could handle that reasoning well enough.

The Malfoy was stepping forward, arms out in front to feel around him tentatively, and immediately she saw him going for Miss Zabini and knew, terribly, that this was so much more than forbidden fruit. He reached Miss Zabini with ease as nothing blocked his path and his hands touched hers as he groped the air. "Ah! I have someone," he said, that smile still playing at the corner of his lips. His fingers ran up her smooth arms, "and I am guessing this is a lady." Miss Zabini seemed on the brink of grabbing Mr. Malfoy as her impatience was plan to see in her face, but he seemed unsure. His hands stopped upon Miss Zabini's angled shoulders. Ginevra thought, with a pang, that he was going to lean in and kiss her and the thought made her want to shout and stop it all. "I am sure this lady is very pretty, but she is taller than the lady I have in mind."

Mr. Malfoy turned to continue his search and Miss Zabini instantly looked furious, but she remained silent. Muriel looked excited again as he moved away from Miss Zabini, whom she obviously disliked. His next choice ended up being Lord Selwyn, who was racked with laughter as Malfoy attempted to feel him out, but Malfoy took the embarrassment well, proclaiming that he did not know Lord Selwyn had such a soft spot for him.

"I've had enough of this," sighed Demelza. "Sorry, Ginevra." But, before Ginevra could question her apology, Demelza's foot shot out and she stepped on her, very hard.

"Ouch! Demelza! Why -?"

"I am so sorry, Ginevra, I did not mean to step on you, I am very sorry!"

"Shhh!" Miss Zabini shushed, looking angrier than ever as she could have burned Demelza's face off with just a look.

Ginevra frowned at her friend, who had a look of mock guilt on her face as she mouthed "sorry" again before turning back to the scene enfolding in front of them, a smirk on her lips. Ginevra did the same and now saw, with a hitched breath, that Malfoy was making his way over to them instead. The other wizards began calling out encouragements to him, which many of the older witches found hilarious. Ginevra could see her aunt looking positively beside herself with glee, so much so that she had forgotten that she was toothless and grinning wider than anyone else in the room.

Malfoy now stood in front of her, his hands groping the air as they had done at the beginning until he found her hands. His were warm and firm as they gripped hers and silence fell once more. Ginevra looked up at him as his fingers traced a line up her arms, expecting to see into his sharp, grey eyes, momentarily forgetting that he had been blindfolded. Unwillingly, she shuddered as his hands went from her arms to drop to her waist and she felt an urgency arising within her; it was only that his lips appeared to be so inviting, only slightly parted and turned at the corners into that disarming smile. It was only her damned curiosity that made her wonder what those lips would feel like on her own.

The rapid beat of her pulse continued and she had hoped he would not notice until he lifted his hand again to rest upon her neck; it would be so obvious to him that her heart was betraying her. Malfoy did not linger there long, however, and he raised his hand to trace the line of her jaw, his fingers gently brushing her lips. "There they are," he whispered, so quietly she knew only she could have heard it, and it made a rush of warmth spread through her. Finally, he bent his head and kissed her.

Cheers erupted around them, breaking the silence and making Ginevra jump. She had all but forgotten that there were other people in the room, which ended the short-lived kiss. Mr. Malfoy pulled up his blindfold, a look of elation on his face as he stared back at her.

"You can let her go now, Malfoy!" Mr. Zabini called suddenly, laughing.

He stepped back from her, bowing politely. "Apologies, Miss Weasley," he muttered. "I hope I have not offended you."

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, a slight brush creeping up her neck as she spoke, meeting his gaze despite wanting to run as fast as she could from him and her odd feelings. "It is only a game, after all."

Mr. Malfoy took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles with courtesy. "Of course," he replied. "Just a game." He turned away from her now and faced the rest of his guests, many of whom were now whispering animatedly to each other, but he took it all in his stride. "I think a little music is in order, would any of the ladies like to oblige?"

Surprisingly, not even Miss Zabini was keen on showcasing her musical talents as she had been earlier on in the evening. In fact, none of the other ladies appeared keen to oblige their host; apparently they were quite angry at his lack of attention.

"I'll play," Demelza stepped in, an air of exasperation as she spoke. "But only if Ginevra will join me in a duet?"

Ginevra's eyes widened immediately upon the suggestion, and she wanted nothing more than to scold Demelza for her antics. "I do not play well," she said, hoping to end her friend's request right there. "The piano is not an instrument that I get on with." Annoyingly, she heard Miss Zabini snort at this from her corner of the room, which only served to frustrate Ginevra further.

"Nonsense, Ginevra," her aunt said in a loud voice as she bustled over to them, adamant that she would have her say in this and, no doubt, fully aware of the fact that her niece would try to wriggle out of performing. "You may not play the piano so well, but you can join Miss Robbins in a song."

Ginevra sighed, knowing that resisting her aunt would only result in a week's worth of lecturing on how ungrateful she was. Her singing voice was good enough to be heard in public, that much she could not argue against. "Fine," she conceded and she followed Demelza over to the piano to flip through the music book. "This is really uncalled for," she whispered to her friend under the cover of polite conversation amongst the party. "Why are you doing this? I have a mind to refuse your invitation!"

Demelza merely chuckled as she set upon a piece to play. "I would have given anything for such an opportunity, Ginevra," she whispered back. "Do not tell me you didn't enjoy the attention? Or the kiss, for that matter?" Ginevra pursed her lips in disapproval. "You look like your aunt when you do that."

"No, I did not enjoy the attention," she muttered back furiously. "And I am not enjoying having to make an exhibition of myself in front of all these people."

"So, you enjoyed the kiss then?"

Before Ginevra could protest, Demelza began playing, leaving no more room for inconsequential denials.

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I have had a lot going on in my life and subsequently did not have any inspiration to write up until now. Thank you to all those who reviewed my last chapter, I hope you are all still here to read this one and enjoyed it.

For those of you waiting for the next chapter to The Rise and The Fall, I have begun writing it up and it will hopefully be posted soon. It will be called The Gravedigger.


	4. An Undeniable Feeling

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

 **The Marriage Market**

 **Chapter IV**

 **An Undeniable Feeling**

Draco Malfoy half-heartedly spooned up his porridge, preferring to give all attention to the thoughts racing through his mind than to the bowl of unsatisfying oats in front of him. He had come into London with the express intention of finding a wife; that wife had to be of good wizarding stock to please the memory of his parents and, to please himself, she had to be beautiful. Those were the only two requirements he had set himself, this was to make his decision easy and quick. Draco detested the London season and had wanted to be removed from it as reasonably fast as possible.

Then he had been introduced to Ginevra Weasley. Perhaps not of the stock his mother and father would generally approve of, but her mother had been a Prewett and her mother had bore a great number of children. This would have placated his parents, had they been alive; it was important for a witch to be fertile and at least have some good family background. And perhaps she was not of the usual beauty he would have normally been attracted to, but there was a fire in her eyes when they looked upon him that quickened his breath. The curve of her heart-shaped lips simply begged him to kiss her. Her figure, though not elegant, moved with a grace and curvature that most elegant witches could only hope to aspire, and when he held her in a dance, it was with so much ease that he could not deny he had an unbidden attraction for her.

For the past month or so, Draco had wilfully gone out of his way to meet with her, to dance with her, to converse with her and, last night, he had finally stolen a kiss from her. Miss Weasley's lips had been just as soft against his as he had imagined, and then it had finished just as quickly as it had started.

And, what was he going to do about this?

The question pressed upon him so urgently, now that he had kissed her, where before it had been lurking in the back of his mind awaiting a rainy day.

"I am still waiting for a thanks, Malfoy," came his friend's voice as he dropped into a chair carelessly across from him and began spreading marmalade onto some toast. "I do believe you owe me that."

"Yes, you were very subtle," Draco said, sarcasm evident in his voice. "I should think the entire population of wizarding London knows the gossip this morning."

Zabini shrugged casually. "I did not see you complaining much and, furthermore, it did not seem as though you were going to do much about our favourite redhead." With that, he bit into his toast and felt that was sufficient.

" _Our_ favourite?"

Zabini nodded. "I have decided that she is rather interesting, despite her lack of breeding," he explained in an offhand way. "In consequence of that, I decided to push things gently forward."

"Oh, thanks for that, Zabini," Draco said humourlessly. "I am so glad you are here to make these decisions for me."

"My pleasure," Zabini replied, evidently choosing to ignore the sarcasm in Draco's voice.

Draco scoffed at the arrogance of his friend, torn between annoyance and gratitude. What he really wanted to say to Zabini was to keep to his own affairs, but he would not have had the opportunity to kiss Miss Weasley had it not been for his friend's interference. "Perhaps I have decided to set my sights elsewhere," he said instead, "perhaps I did not find Miss Weasley as satisfactory as I first thought."

Zabini completely dropped his casual facade and laughed loudly and derisively. He was not easily fooled. "Is that so? Then, pray, tell me why you offended your other guests when they attempted to speak with you whilst Miss Weasley was singing?" he asked with a wry smile. "You are lucky they were so understanding of your wide-eyed affection, not that you care, I suppose. My cousin will be devastated," he added as he took another bite of his toast. "Though, that will be one less person for you to invite."

"Invite?" Draco asked, bemused.

"I assumed you were planning on asking for Miss Weasley's hand in marriage," Zabini said bluntly. "I expect to be best man, by the way."

The question he had been asking himself before his friend rudely interrupted him came back, unbidden. It was the natural and most logical thing to do; to ask Miss Weasley to marry him. It would mean he could leave London and return to the Manor and return to his charitable interests. Yet, he had not actually bargained on having feelings for his wife; that changed everything. Draco had planned on taking whomever he married back to the Manor, securing a pregnancy as quickly as possible and leaving his wife to her own devices. But, now, he would wish to take his time to know her, he would want her to assist him in his charitable pursuits and her aspirations to become a mediwitch would also need to be addressed.

The thought of her being in any kind of close proximity to Eric Thorpe made his blood boil, so joining St. Mungo's as a mediwitch was going to be highly problematic.

This was all if she actually accepted his proposal.

Draco hesitated before he spoke; he trusted Zabini, however he did not like him to know his inner troubles, but he had to have some affirmation in this important decision. "I am not certain of what her answer may be," he said in a firm voice, warning his friend to not laugh. "I cannot give a proposal if I am likely to be turned down, my pride shall not bear it."

Zabini, thankfully, did not laugh, but he did smirk. "Malfoy, she was far from turning away when you went to kiss her last night," he pointed out. "I have seen so many of those forfeits played out; a witch would turn away if she did not want the wizard to kiss her."

Draco thought back to the night before, but already knew that he needn't play out the scene again; he had been very aware of her willingness to participate before he had even placed his lips upon hers. He had felt Miss Weasley looking up at him by the touch of his hand on her jaw, she had been waiting, perhaps impatiently, for him to kiss her. Though he knew that last part was his own embellishment. The fact remained that she had not resisted nor refused, which she had been well within her rights to do.

"I shall wait until this wedding has passed," he finally said, deciding on a simple plan of action.

Zabini's eyes widened in surprise. "You are going to make an offer?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not yet, it would be far more prudent for me to court her first," he said, now more to himself than his friend as he stood to leave the table. "I must go, you will have to entertain yourself today, Zabini."

"Where are you going, Malfoy?" Zabini called after him, half between laughing and bemusement.

Draco did not answer his friend and left the breakfast room, a determination within him to achieve a future happiness that he had not expected would ever rest upon a Weasley agreeing to marry him. The thought could have made him laugh if the situation were not so serious.

He had dressed carefully, choosing his most handsome set of visiting clothes, and had spent an inordinate amount of time in front of his mirror. "Very dashing," it had said. Draco felt that he had no better critic than his mirror as it was so honest, and decided he should leave before the morning was out. It would be greatly irritating to travel to Mrs Prewett's residence, only to find that both ladies had gone out visiting elsewhere. A letter could be sent ahead, but that would spoil the effect he wished to create.

That was how he had found himself standing upon the doorstep of Mrs Prewett's townhouse across town, his palms sweaty despite his attempts to keep that calm air he affected so well. Normally he would be surveying the surrounding area, casting criticisms in his mind, but he was far too nervous to think about such trifles. Finally, he stepped forward and gripped the doorknocker and let it fall firmly against the blue-painted door.

A few moments passed and Draco wondered if he had taken too long in getting ready after all until he heard the lock click, which was quickly followed by the door swinging open to reveal a plump house elf standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, sir," the house elf said sombrely. "May Tarly ask what it is that sir requires?"

Draco cleared his throat. He could deal with house elves. "I am here to see the lady of the house, Mrs Prewett, and her niece, Miss Weasley."

The house elf called Tarly bowed and stepped aside, indicating for him to make his way into the entrance hall. Draco stepped inside and handed his travelling cloak to the house elf, who had been holding her arms out. The house was decorated as he had expected, in the style and tastes of an older woman, but again he did not dwell on such things. "Please come through, sir," the house elf said as she made Draco's cloak disappear and led him into a small parlour room, "Tarly shall tell Mrs Prewett of sir's arrival. Who shall Tarly say is calling, sir?"

"Draco Malfoy," he answered, taking the indicated seat by the iron-wrought fireplace. A fire had not yet been lit.

Tarly left Draco now to his own thoughts, but these were soon interrupted by sudden scrapings on the floor above him; muffled, indistinct voices told him that his arrival had just been announced to both witches. This all preceded the loud footsteps that could now be heard banging down the stairs in a hurry.

"Mr. Malfoy!" exclaimed Mrs Prewett as she burst through the parlour door. "What a surprise! I daresay I have only just gotten ready myself... but, please, forgive me, would you like some tea?"

Draco declined the offer, wishing to get to the point before Miss Weasley joined them. "In truth, I am not here to have tea, Mrs Prewett," he said quietly. "I am here because I wish to court your niece." It was a dangerous gamble; Mrs Prewett could be deeply offended by his openness. Yet, he sensed she was the kind of woman who had experience, who understood that some traditions were made to be twisted.

Mrs Prewett's eyes bulged precariously at his words and she took a seat across from him. "I daresay your methods are quite irregular, Mr. Malfoy," she said in disbelief, "but I approve."

"You approve?" Draco said, now confused and surprised.

"Well, of course," she replied, a gleeful and mischievous look on her face as she leant in closer to him so that she could whisper. "Ginevra is a headstrong girl, without my help, you could not hope to court her successfully. Oh, don't take that to mean she doesn't wish to court you," she said hurriedly, noticing the frown that crossed his face. "It is plain to everyone but Ginevra that she is of a mind to be in love with you. It is a mere matter of showing that to her."

Draco could not have hoped for a better response to assuage his doubts. Of course, he wanted Miss Weasley to be a willing participant in their courtship, that would obviously assist in his final goal of proposing her marriage successfully. "I am glad of your assistance, Mrs Prewett," he said gratefully. "But, please do keep this arrangement to yourself, at least until it is widely known that I am courting Miss Weasley. Not that this will remain secret for very long."

"Mr. Malfoy, forgive me for saying so, but many of your guests from last night believe it to be so already," Mrs Prewett said.

Before they could continue their conversation, the parlour door opened again and Miss Weasley walked in. Draco stood up immediately to bow politely to her and watch her curtsey to him; he quickly drank in her appearance. She wore a cream-coloured day dress, which was patterned with flowers, the sleeves blossomed out to her wrists as was the fashion, and she wore her red hair tied back at the nape of her neck, ringlets loosely falling down one side of her shoulders. Her complexion was pale but flushed with the effort of getting ready so fast, and her bright, brown eyes were alive with curiosity.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," she said quietly, and neither made a move to take their seats. Draco idly wondered what she was thinking, he wondered if she were remembering the feel of his lips on hers. The tingle he was feeling on his own told him he was doing just that.

"Ginevra, dear," Mrs Prewett said loudly, drawing their attention back to the older woman. "Mr. Malfoy has just invited us to take a turn with him in the park. Tarly will fetch your bonnet and cloak for you."

Draco went along with Mrs Prewett's announcement, clearly she worked quickly and was keen to show him just how much help she would give. The arrangements were made to leave the house quickly and, once all their cloaks had been given them, they left the house and made their way along the street to a small park at the far end. Draco rarely ventured into any of the parks in London, mostly because they were filled with Muggles and in front of whom doing magic was forbidden, but this one seemed near deserted aside from a couple of women sitting on a bench in the far corner of the park.

They walked for a while together, speaking of the weather and the various oddities the park had to offer in terms of conversation until Mrs Prewett decided that she needed to rest her ankles, and would seat herself at one of the vacant benches they had passed. This left him sufficiently alone with Miss Weasley.

"You are looking very well this morning, Miss Weasley," he started, breaking the silence between them before it became awkward.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she replied shortly, and it seemed that would be all he would get from her for now.

"Did my actions offend you last night, Miss Weasley?" he asked, as that was all he could possibly think of for why she was being unusually quiet.

Miss Weasley shook her head. "Oh no, of course not," she replied, her face still betraying no thought or feeling. "Like I said, it is only a game."

"And I was successful in the game, don't you agree?" he asked, stopping now so he could look into her face properly. Mrs Prewett was safely out of earshot, as were the two women at the other end of the path.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him so that their eyes met. Curiosity still filled her brown eyes.

"I kissed the prettiest woman in the room," he answered simply, and he took a breath. "I should like to kiss you again, if you would allow it."

Miss Weasley's bright eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. Malfoy, you are too forward," she whispered in an admonishing voice and she continued to walk ahead of him, he had to quicken his pace to rejoin her. "I would go back to my aunt if it were not for the fact that she would only encourage such inappropriate behaviour."

Draco only laughed. "Please, stop, Miss Weasley," he said, taking her hand secretly beneath the folds of their cloaks. It would not do to have those Muggle women descend into a fainting fit at witnessing their touch. "Do not tell me these stuffy traditions bind you? The way you are glancing at my lips tells me you desire another kiss. Why deny it?"

Her eyes snapped back up to his hastily. "It is not traditions that hold me back, Mr. Malfoy," she whispered furiously. "It is respect for my mother and father, and for my family."

"I respect that, Miss Weasley," he replied seriously. "But, is that to say, were it not for those things, that you would kiss me? I will take that as my consolation."

Miss Weasley gaped at him. "You are insufferable, I said nothing of the sort!"

"Sometimes words are not needed to convey one's desires, Miss Weasley," he replied softly, resisting the urge to brush his fingers against her face.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it that you want from me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked suspiciously.

"Miss Weasley, that is a dangerous question to ask of me," he said gently, grasping her hand firmly and noting the fact that she had not attempted to pull away from him. "Are you sure you wish to hear the answer?"

Draco could see that she hesitated before nodding. "Yes, I do," she said firmly, "I am tired of wondering what your attentions could mean."

He smiled and squeezed her hand to show he was not trying to intimidate her as he stepped as close as propriety would allow in public. "I only wish to court your affections, Miss Weasley," he replied, again in a soft and quiet voice. Draco hoped it came across as intimate. "That is, if no other wizard is courting them?"

"Y-you wish to-to court _me_?" she breathed out, her breath visible in the cold, February air. Her eyes bore into his, as though trying to search out the truth behind this madness "To what end?"

Draco gave a low laugh. "'To what end?'" he repeated, almost disbelieving that she could ask such a thing. Was it not obvious? "Of course, to understand the witch whom I intend to propose marriage to." Miss Weasley gasped and broke their gaze, letting go of his hand as she turned away from him. "Does that shock you, Miss Weasley? Why else should I wish to court you?" he asked, confused.

"I-I do not know..." she finished quietly, her figure stiff as she looked ahead of her.

"I suppose it is rather odd that I should willingly lose myself to your affections, Miss Weasley, considering my past, considering our families," he explained. "But, I implore you to consider this seriously."

Miss Weasley was quiet for some time, still not deigning to look at him and he had to restrain himself from forcing her to turn his way. "But, I don't understand," she finally said, confusion still in her voice.

"You think I do? Forgive me, but I had not ever imagined that I should even be considering making a Weasley my wife," he replied honestly, hoping this would appeal to some shred of generosity within her. "Yet, here I am, begging for your attentions. My father would be mocking me were he alive, my mother too, I expect. But, damn them, it is only your thoughts that I care to hear at this moment." Draco wished they were alone so he could kiss her, hard, to make her see reason where his words seemed to be failing. It was only logical that she should be his; it was obvious to him now in the way his body yearned for her to merely look at him.

"How can you know that this is what you want?" she asked, her voice still disbelieving. "We hardly know each other."

"That is why courtship is necessary," he said, stepping in front of her, no longer able to resist. Miss Weasley still kept her eyes lowered, firmly fixed upon the ground as though she could not bear to witness the truth of what was happening in front of her. "We will be allowed time alone within your aunt's residence, we will be allowed to dance more than two dances together; there will be many instances where we can speak freely with one another without interruption or fear of impropriety."

Miss Weasley remained silent again, for a long time, until she turned to look at him. Her brown eyes housing that fire that had drawn him into this madness to begin with. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy," she said resolutely, "I will consent to your courtship, but I make no promises for your future designs."

"Of course not," he breathed out, taking her hand and kissing it, damning whomever was in the park. Let them see, he could not care less. She lowered her eyes in the face of it, but she did not pull back from him and it gratified him to see the slightest smile playing at her lips no matter how much she had tried to hide it. "But, I do not share, you understand. If you should be attending a ball or some other such function, I expect you to decline any other man's request to dance."

"Well, that is not unreasonable," she replied softly, continuing their walk further up the park. "And I expect the same loyalty from you, Mr. Malfoy. I will not be made a fool of."

Draco did not expect anything less, he could not have respected her if she had not requested the same. "I should not want to dance with another witch. And, surely, we can dispense with the formalities?" he said. "I should prefer it if you would call me 'Draco'."

They continued to walk in silence then, though it was not awkward. Draco was between feeling elation and confusion, unsure why she had actually consented, and so he was glad to even walk with her. But it soon became disagreeable to him when more and more people began arriving in the park, despite the chill in the air. So they returned to her aunt, who had dutifully waited on the bench for more than three quarters of an hour and was ready to return to the warmth of her townhouse. Though Draco was not yet ready to part from Miss Weasley; he had achieved his goal, but he had not yet begun to know her.

"Mr. Malfoy, you must come back to lunch with us," Mrs Prewett suggested almost as soon as he stood beside her. "I am sure my niece agrees, don't you, Ginevra?"

Miss Weasley only nodded, betraying nothing in her eyes or face. Draco knew she was going to be difficult in his pursuit, but he wasn't shy of working hard when he really wanted something. Ginevra Weasley would be his before the month was out, that he could guarantee.

* * *

Ginevra could feel Mr. Malfoy's gloved hand underneath the folds of her cloak, holding hers so casually, as if it was natural that he should do so. It made her think back to when he had gripped her hand in the park, when he was near pleading with her to see it his way and that reminded her of the determined look in his eyes and the passion in his voice. He truly believed that she should court him. In that moment, Demelza's words had resonated in her mind telling her to at least allow Mr. Malfoy to court her if he wished. Ginevra had not expected the situation to happen so soon after their conversation.

And it was a risk. Ginevra was never one to shy away from taking a risk, sometimes it could be exhilarating. Though it remained to be seen whether or not this could be the most foolish thing she had ever done. That little voice in her head, the one that spoke in a voice of reason (somehow it always ended up sounding like Hermione), did not believe her own reasoning; it told her that she had wanted this from the moment he had kissed her the evening before, that she shouldn't deny her feelings however confusing they may be, and furthermore, to not lie to herself.

Very well, she thought, Mr. Malfoy had undoubtedly stirred some feelings. That much she could say to herself. It was only a feeling and she could say that she was intrigued by him, she could say she even liked him, but she could not say she loved him, and she was damned if she was going to let him have her so easily, particularly as marriage seemed so ridiculous. How could she marry a Malfoy? How could she really marry _Draco_ Malfoy? It would take much for him to persuade her of such an ending to their courtship. Perhaps this courtship would make him see that he could not possibly marry her.

All three arrived back at the townhouse, cold from the wind that had picked up mercilessly since they had left more than an hour ago. It was a relief to step inside and warm themselves by the now lit fire in the parlour.

"I hear that you are invited to Mr. Higgs and Miss Robbins wedding, Mr. Malfoy?" her aunt said as they sat down and she poured the tea that had been already been placed on the table.

"Yes, I am," Mr. Malfoy replied. "They are well matched, he has been lucky to meet Miss Robbins so early in the season."

"Yes, I daresay they are the first in our circle of acquaintances to find such luck," Muriel said happily. "And I doubt Miss Robbins isn't much too bothered about this Quidditch career she has been fantasising about."

"Actually, Demelza will continue with Quidditch," Ginevra interjected, a little pompously but then she was not going to allow her aunt to give Mr. Malfoy any ideas about her giving up on her career. "Mr. Higgs is quite adamant that she shouldn't stop on his account." And with that she took a sip of her tea and said no more on the subject.

Muriel looked extremely put out by this. "Well, that is very odd indeed. Not indicative of most wizards, I am sure."

Ginevra did not say anything. Here was an excellent opportunity for Mr. Malfoy to air his feelings on the subject.

"It is not particularly necessary for Miss Robbins to give up Quidditch," he said decidedly. "Most wizarding estates can run themselves without much intervention, having house elves makes it easier. But, should they have children, I think it would be prudent for her to give Quidditch up."

Ginevra frowned. "And why do you think that?"

"Quidditch is a dangerous sport, Miss Weasley," he replied simply. "That much is obvious. Most Quidditch players finish their careers by the time they are ready to have children at any rate, the sport is physically tiring."

Ginevra did not argue that point; it was true enough. "But what of other pursuits?" she asked. "In other career paths, would it be strange to you for a witch to return to work?"

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his face; it was obvious he knew what she was really asking. "It would all depend on the career," he replied, not obliging her.

Ginevra decided to say no more on the subject for now, especially as her aunt was staring beadily at her and obviously disapproving of her niece's questioning, as she changed the subject abruptly. "Well, we have also been invited to the wedding, though it is troublesome that I do not have a place in the area from which to apparate," she said as though galled by the idea that Demelza should be getting married somewhere such as Somerset. "I do not like to apparate so far, you see. Though I suppose they may arrange Portkeys for those travelling from London."

"I will be leaving from the Manor, it is only a county over from Somerset," Mr. Malfoy said. "I would be glad to receive you as my guests for the days leading up to the wedding, if you have no other engagements? Miss Robbins may like to have her friend close by at such a time."

Aunt Muriel's face lit up like an over-decorated Christmas tree. "Why, how generous of you, Mr. Malfoy!" she exclaimed. "We should not want to trouble you." Ginevra knew this was a lie, nothing short of Mr. Malfoy proposing marriage right now could have made her any more ecstatic. "But it would make things far easier for us."

"It would be no trouble at all, Mrs Prewett," he replied politely. "I am only returning to the Manor to attend to some issues that have arisen in my absence, nothing too interesting, so it would not be any trouble. In truth, I should be glad of your company. Mr. Zabini is staying in town with his cousin, you see."

"An excellent idea, is it not, Ginevra?" her aunt asked, taking her by surprise. Ginevra had not thought her input would be needed, her aunt had already made up her mind.

"Yes, it will be better for your health to apparate at a shorter distance," she replied. "I also hear you have wonderful grounds, Mr. Malfoy. It will be nice to see them."

"They are nothing compared to how they look in late spring, Miss Weasley," he said gently as he turned his gaze upon her. "But it will be my pleasure to escort you around the grounds, nevertheless. They were the pride and joy of my mother, so I hope you will appreciate their beauty."

Ginevra smiled and resigned herself to the fact that she had created a situation in which they should be alone together. Aunt Muriel was not one for landscapes, especially in the country, and she despised the cold when away from London, so she would never join them. There was no problem with them being alone together, it was more that she worried what liberties he might think he could take, particularly as their interactions were already quite frank.

The day passed in much the same way and Mr. Malfoy stayed all the way up until supper. Aunt Muriel did most of the talking as she seemed determined to get as much information out of him as possible, and it wasn't until he left that her aunt could speak her mind fully.

"Ginevra, dear!" she exclaimed as Mr. Malfoy departed in his carriage after having taken leave of them. "I am proud of you, child! I knew you could attract a decent husband, if you only put the effort in."

"Aunt, I did nothing," she said honestly. "This is all his doing. And he has not proposed me marriage, please do not get ahead of yourself."

Muriel laughed derisively. "And do you not think that is his intention?"

"Once this courtship is done, he may change his mind," she said, tired from the day's events.

"Not if you should behave like a witch who would make a good wife," her aunt said with a frown. "Do not be a fool and sabotage this, Ginevra."

Ginevra rolled her eyes. "I shall behave like myself," she said firmly. "If he truly wants me as a wife, then he will have to accept every part of me and my life."

Muriel stared at her, aghast at such a suggestion. Evidently, she believed that Ginevra's personality and true manners were much to be desired. This did not offend her; her aunt's ideas were very old-fashioned and she was notoriously hard to please as it was. If nothing, it humoured her.

"Mr. Malfoy has overlooked some of the unpleasant aspects of your behaviour," her aunt sniffed. "I will give you that, but there only so much any right-minded wizard will take from a witch."

Ginevra laughed. "Then his level of tolerance will have to extend further if he ever hopes to attain me." With that, she left her aunt standing in the entrance hall and went up to her bedroom to undress and ready herself for bed.

Before she could even get into bed, a tapping noise sounded at her window. Ginevra moved the curtain aside and saw a familiar owl sitting on the window sill, a small package tied to its leg. She let the owl in and gestured to the food in her own owl's tray after removing the package. Inside was a small red velvet box and a ribbon-tied posey with white heliotrope and peach blossom; she knew it was a message but wasn't entirely sure of it's actual meaning. Her aunt had spoken briefly on floriography, a relatively new way for young lovers to converse in secret, but she had not provided much detail. Ginevra would consult her bookshelf once the contents of the velvet box were revealed.

The box itself was heavier than she expected and when she opened it a small piece of folded up parchment fell on her bed. What was inside the box caught her attention first and it made her blush to wonder how much he might have paid; it was a bracelet mostly made up of a single string of pearls that were held together by a small gold letter M, which was set with emeralds. The bracelet was a traditional gift in wizarding circles at the beginning of a courtship, but this must have cost Mr. Malfoy a fair amount and it was not customary for a wizard to do such a thing until there was an engagement.

Ginevra daren't even put such a delicate thing on, not until she read his letter at any rate, so she unfolded the parchment and began to read.

 _Ginevra,_

 _Mr. Zabini tells me it is tradition for a wizard to send the object of his courting a token of their intentions, something that will warn off other potential suitors. This bracelet was my grandmother's, given to her by my grandfather, and I thought it would better suit you rather than the display cabinet it was languishing in for many years. I hope you like it well enough to wear it at Lady Selwyn's mid-season ball that we will both be attending in the coming weeks, and also at Mr. Higgs and Miss Robbins wedding. I cannot say how much it would mean to me for you to oblige this request._

 _The flowers are for your eyes only._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco_

 _PS Please oblige my owl as well and allow him some food._

Ginevra thought him to be slightly insane to entrust a family heirloom to her; the bracelet was, in effect, priceless. Worth far more than she had imagined. Well, it was of his choosing and if he wanted her to wear it, then she would but she could not guarantee that it would be safe with her. Ginevra supposed that she must send him something back; if he wished her to dance with only him at balls and wanted each wizard in attendance to know she was no longer available for pursuit, then he would do the same for her. He would not even entertain the idea of dancing with another woman outside of his own family. He would certainly not be dancing with Miss Zabini.

Then an idea came to her; she would give Mr. Malfoy one of her new monogrammed handkerchiefs. It was not at all inappropriate, in fact, she knew of many women who had given such tokens, and she would ask him to wear it in his breast pocket with her initials displayed clearly for all to see. Ginevra went over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a white handkerchief, her initials sewn in at one corner in dark blue thread and proceeded to her desk, where she took up a quill.

 _Mr. Malfoy,_

 _I shall oblige your request, however you should also be willing to oblige mine. I have enclosed a handkerchief, which I expect you to wear in your breast pocket at Lady Selwyn's ball, with my initials on show._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Ginevra Weasley_

She enclosed the handkerchief with the letter whilst folding it and called down his owl, who was still happily eating. Her own owl looked distinctly put off by this intrusion, and especially when Ginevra did not use her to send the letter.

"I am only sending him back to his master," she explained as she let the owl back out the window and watched it fly off over the dark roofs. "Don't be offended." Athena hooted softly and returned to eating her food once she was certain the intruder had disappeared.

Ginevra now turned to her bookcase and found the book on floriography, simply titled _Floriography_ by Verbena Aster, a book her aunt had given her at the beginning of her etiquette teachings and one she had not had much time for, even then; Ginevra had not expected any such occurrence to be given flowers. She quickly flipped through the book, which was helpfully in alphabetical order, found the heliotrope flower and blushed instantly at the single word written in fluid script next to the drawing; _devotion_. Yet, that was nothing to the peach blossom; next to that exquisite drawing in the same hand was another single word: _captivated_.

The flowers were truly for her eyes only. Ginevra could not allow her aunt to see the little posey as she would know their meaning immediately and it was plain to see that this was to be between him and her.

Harry had never deigned to be so intimate or forthcoming with his own feelings; she had known he loved her, but he had never given her flowers nor had he ever made her feel so singular with just a kiss, a kiss that had most likely lasted less than a second. Harry had perhaps only ever danced with her once, but Mr. Malfoy had the same talent in making her feel as though they were the only two in the room when he danced with her as he did for kissing. It made her wonder for the first time what Harry would think of her courting Mr. Malfoy and, strangely she found she did not care. Harry had lost his chance to wed her forever, and Mr. Malfoy's attentions had nothing to do with it. If he had not appeared in London this season, Ginevra would still be of the same mind.

Knowing this made her feel as though an immense weight had been lifted from her, a weight she had not realised she had been dragging around with her for so long. Harry no longer held a place in her heart, but she did not mean this maliciously, not at all. Ginevra wanted happiness for him, he deserved that more than most people, but he would have no right to air his opinions on whom she chose to court, or marry for that matter.

With all that in mind, with Mr. Malfoy's secret message, Ginevra was in high anticipation for Lady Selwyn's ball, which carried over into the following days. So different was her manner, that Muriel even commented on how light her niece seemed to be on her feet, how she had never seen her niece so happy since she was a child and how she had never appeared so radiant before. It was exultant praise indeed and one that carried right up until the evening of the ball as the pair of them made their way to Lady Selwyn's.

"I must say how extraordinarily well you look, Ginevra," her aunt said, still with an air of surprise at this change in her niece. "Of course, I knew that we would have to be exceedingly fashionable this evening, considering the Selwyn's mid-season ball is always one of the most important events of the season, but you have surpassed even my own standards."

Ginevra smiled graciously, almost astonished that Muriel would admit such a thing, though she had taken her time in getting ready this evening. She had settled upon a white, low-shouldered gown with a tulle overlay and an intricate, patterned beading, something she had deemed to be far too extravagant until now. She had also intertwined her braided bun with a long string of small pearls borrowed from her aunt, and allowed the rest of her hair to fall down her back in looser ringlets. "Aunt, you must stop complimenting me so," she said in good humour. "I am beginning to think that you may not be at all well, such unremitting praise is very unlike you."

Muriel ignored Ginevra's teasing and pressed on. "Though, of course, it is all because of Mr. Malfoy," she said knowingly, gesturing to the bracelet her niece now wore on her wrist. "An exquisite piece of jewellery, I must say. And, did I not tell you so? Did I not say he would pursue you?"

Ginevra rolled her eyes, but did not say anything; she was not going to give her aunt the pleasure of being vindicated. Mr. Malfoy had indeed pursued her, and he had continued to do so in the weeks leading up to the ball; he had paid her a visit every other day, sometimes they would talk of books, or Quidditch, or discuss the latest news stories from the _Daily Prophet_. Other times they would sit in silence and read, or she would oblige him by playing the harp and singing, or it would be taking a turn about London in his open top carriage, wrapped up in her thickest winter cloak. Needless to say, most of wizarding London were well aware of Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley's courtship, and Ginevra had not been inclined to turn him away as yet. "It is not all because of Mr. Malfoy, at any rate," she decided to say instead. "I have only made an effort because of the ball. You did say this was one of the more significant events of the social season."

"Of course, dear child," Muriel answered in a placating tone, much to Ginevra's chagrin. "But, we are here now. Quick, Ginevra, I am just as excited about this ball as you," she said with urgency, ushering her niece out of the carriage. "Lady Selwyn will soon want to know all the details of your courtship once it becomes common knowledge."

Ginevra stepped out into the cold air, her velvet cloak pulled tightly around her as a footman assisted her descent to the ground. Lady Selwyn's mansion was bustling with activity, even more so than the first ball she had been to there. Every where she looked, she saw young witches and wizards in their best evening wear, each and every one's excitement just as palpable as the next. Ginevra knew it was because of the significance of the ball; it was held mid season because it was usually the time when most of the young people would have decided whom they would be focusing their attentions on and there was nothing like a good ball to get all these young people together to assist them in their pursuits.

Once inside the warmth of the mansion, Ginevra removed her cloak and gave it to a waiting house elf, hardly waiting to see if her aunt followed but she was now too engrossed in conversation with Lady Selwyn, who had accosted her aunt almost immediately upon her arrival. Ginevra took the opportunity to wander around, casting her eye here and there; truthfully she was looking for Mr. Malfoy, who did not seem to be anywhere she had looked so far.

"Miss Weasley," a voice said behind her. "Would you care to dance with me on the next?"

Ginevra turned to find a very proper and straight-backed wizard standing directly behind her; she recognised him as someone she had been introduced to before, but couldn't quite remember his name. Though she was certain that he had not shown much interest in her before. "Oh, thank you for asking," she said politely, curtseying to him. "But I am taken for the entire evening."

He looked taken aback by this. "You are? In such a short space of time, Miss Weasley?" he said sceptically. "But I have only just seen you arrive not five minutes ago."

Ginevra smiled. "Well, I am afraid it is so, apologies." With that, she curtsied again and left him standing there, quite dumbfounded.

But that was not the end of it, many more wizards approached her for dances and still she said 'no' to all of them, even when she began to wonder that Mr. Malfoy may not even be at the ball as she had yet to set eyes upon him.

"I am very sorry, sir," she said, almost unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "but I truly I taken for the whole evening."

"Even the last two dances? Let me see your book, then," the wizard said in a disbelieving tone of voice until his eyes focused on something just behind her, causing her to turn her head. There stood Mr. Malfoy, taller than the wizard demanding proof from her and emanating an uncharacteristically intimidating aura.

"There is no need to look at her book, sir," he said with certainty in his voice as he stepped closer to Ginevra and took her hand. "I can tell you that Miss Weasley is engaged to partner with me for the last two dances, and for every other dance this evening." The wizard stared at the pair of them, a battle of wills playing out quite clearly on his face as he tried to decide whether or not to go away or demand that Mr. Malfoy now show him proof. Thankfully, he decided on the former and walked off abruptly without another word. Mr. Malfoy laughed and turned to face Ginevra, her breath hitching in her throat as he bent his head to her, his short wavy hair falling into his eyes, thinking that he would kiss her. "And who can blame him for wanting to dance with the most beautiful witch at the ball?" he simply said in a low voice. She then noticed, as she had requested, her handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket, her small initials clearly displayed.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she said, ignoring his comment and remaining stoic in his presence, allowing her breath to return to normal. "And, I am very capable of getting rid of unwanted dance partners."

"Of course, but how can a man resist such an opportunity to stake their claim?" he asked with humour. "And, how many times must I tell you to call me 'Draco'?"

"As many times as you please, Mr. Malfoy," she replied with a smirk. "And I suppose you like to be fashionably late?"

He only laughed again, the sound sending her stomach in a flutter. "I wasn't late, Ginevra," he said softly. "I arrived before you and I have been watching your progress from the top of the staircase." Mr. Malfoy gestured to the marble stairs leading to the upper floors, and which gave an excellent view of the entire ball room. "I was glad to see you kept to your word and rebuffed every man who approached you, and I was also glad to see you searching me out."

His hand rested precariously on her waist then as he guided her through the crowds of people. "I was not searching you out," she lied. "Far from it."

"Oh, I beg to differ," he replied, chuckling. "I have learnt quickly that what your face says is the truth, rather than your words. Forgive me, sweet Ginevra, but you are not proficient at hiding your true feelings."

Ginevra decided the best course of action was to ignore what he had just said and change the subject. It seemed to work well with him. "I do not think it prudent for you to be touching me there, Mr. Malfoy," she said pointedly as they continued their progress through the crowd, and she briefly wondered where he was leading her. "We are in company."

"But, of course," he said, removing his hand now to oblige her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they passed the refreshments table and the crowd began to thin out.

"You will see soon enough," he replied evasively. "It will interest you, I daresay."

Ginevra threw him a bemused look as they reached the door leading into the corridor at the far end of the ballroom. "I am not so sure, Mr. Malfoy," she said slowly. "I have seen much of the Selwyn's mansion already."

"Just wait here," he said, ignoring her scepticism. "Wait until I call you." Ginevra remained suspicious and it was surely written all over her face, just as he had said because he reassured her. "Do not worry, Ginevra, you will like this and I am sure you have not seen it before. It is a new addition to the Selwyn collection."

Ginevra sighed, but obliged him and took a seat on the small sofa by the doorway as he disappeared. She wondered what it could possibly be that would make him take her away from the ball, an opportunity for him to show their peers that they were truly courting. It wasn't until she had been sitting there for what felt like a good five minutes that she decided to follow him into the darkened corridor, which was lined with many portraits of previous Selwyn's and their spouses; all of which were supposedly slumbering in their frames. But, Mr. Malfoy was not in the corridor and the only other place he could be was the drawing room down the hall, where she could tell the fire had been lit as it's light flickered into the corridor and reflected off the wood panelling.

Tentatively, she made her way down to the drawing room and found that it was devoid of all light, aside from that which came from the fireplace. Ginevra jumped then as the door shut behind her, and she turned sharply to see Mr. Malfoy standing there, bold and a fire in his own eyes.

"I must be honest, Ginevra," he said softly before she could speak. "I lied." He drew her in close, his arms encircling her waist and his face coming very close to hers. Ginevra pressed against his chest hard in protest, her voice ultimately failing her, but he ignored it. Evidently, he felt confident enough to continue, knowing full well that she would have hexed him by now. "Perhaps you can tell that it was all a ruse to be alone with you?" He laughed softly at that, staring down at her through his wavy blonde tendrils.

"A-and why would you wish to be alone with me?" she whispered, already knowing how idiotic a question it was, but she had to say something, anything.

She noticed his eyes drift down to her lips momentarily before answering her. "Why does any man wish to be alone with a woman?" he asked, stepping closer to her than she had thought possible and, without warning, he grasped her waist and held her neck in one swift movement to capture her mouth in a hard kiss.

It was nothing like the soft and playful kiss he had bestowed upon her weeks ago in front of his guests. This was passionate and demanding, and Ginevra couldn't think why the hands she raised to push him away were now simply resting upon his black velvet jacket in apparent submission, nor could she think why she hadn't hexed him right on the spot. Then, suddenly he pulled back, still grasping her waist and she clenching at his lapels. Ginevra noticed a little colour had risen to his normally perfect cheeks and his heavy-lidded eyes flitted between her own quickly, as if trying to gauge her reaction, but before she could even speak, he had pulled her in again. This time she made a small noise of protest, but Mr. Malfoy only took this as an open invitation to deepen their kiss, the hand at her throat tracing a line up to her face as he gave the smallest sigh of pleasure.

How could she resist him then? Never had she ever elicited such a response from a wizard before. Oh yes, she hadn't been particularly proper at Hogwarts, she had been kissed and given kisses before, but not like this one and certainly never with Harry. Harry was far too stern in matters of the heart and romance. And so, Ginevra allowed her body to take control, unable to deny the passion that so obviously existed between them and enjoying the feeling of his thumb stroking her cheekbone, so much so that she gave a little sigh too.

"Come, Ginevra," he said suddenly, his voice near ragged with breathlessness as he left her mouth and began placing kisses along her neck and the slope of her bare shoulder. The action caused her pulse to quicken even faster than it already was, making her own breath come heavy. "Spare me this waiting," he whispered into her neck, his voice almost hesitant as he pulled her body into his now, dispensing with all etiquette. "If you had but one thought as to how desirous I am of you, you would spare me this waiting."

His voice was so inviting and Ginevra couldn't remember what they were waiting for; wouldn't it be an idea to apparate directly to Gretna Green...? That single thought brought her back to her senses in an unforgiving manner. What was she thinking? That was even too risky for her. "Mr. Malfoy, I - ."

" _Draco_ ," he muttered into her ear, his cool breath causing a pleasant shudder. "Don't insult me with formalities, Ginevra."

She hesitated, but allowed him his request. It really did seem too formal to be calling him 'Mr. Malfoy', considering what had just occurred. "Draco," she breathed deeply, preparing herself to break away from his warmth, and it took great will to do so. "That was very, very wrong."

He clasped her hand before she could move away from him completely, noticing a look of sheepishness creeping into his face. "That was many things, Ginevra," he said softly, "but it was not 'wrong'. You must admit that there is something between us, more than most."

"Your desire for me is not something more," she replied, willing herself to hold back her blushes. Ginevra was not accustomed to having such conversations. "Many men can feel lust."

He frowned at that, appearing to be deeply insulted by her words. "You offend me greatly," he said quietly, his voice hard. "Forgive the crudeness of my words, but it would be a lie if I said I did not lust for you. But, my profoundest respect and ardent love for you are the only things stopping me from attempting to seduce you."

Ginevra was stunned into silence and could only stare back at him, vaguely noting the pinkness of his lips from their fervent kiss. Such a confession... and what was she to do with it? Did she not just think to herself in that unguarded moment that they should waste no further time and simply elope? But that was only the cause of the moment, wasn't it? Ginevra realised her silence may have gone on for too long and tried to explain to him that she had not an idea of his true feelings. "Draco, I had not thought - ."

"Make no excuses, Ginevra," he murmured, though not unkindly as he brushed away a stray hair from her face. "I do not expect you to know, I only wish for you to refrain from making such assumptions of me. Strangely enough, my intentions remain pure." Ginevra bowed her head in admission, shamed even by her own short-sightedness. "Come, let us not be melancholy now, we should return to the ball and I believe you are engaged to dance with me."

Draco let her leave first, so as to avoid any unfortunate gossips; it was one thing to be alone together in the safety of a chaperone's home and in an open top carriage, but it was quite illicit to be alone in another's house, behind a closed door. Particularly at a ball, where such encounters could be the ruin of both party's reputations. Ginevra returned to the ball room and pretended to be interested in the various exotic foods piled high on the long table as she waited for him to return.

"Ginny." A voice she had not heard in a long while caused her to stiffen with anxiety. "Your aunt said you would be about here some place, though she told me not to bother as you had set your sights higher than me."

Ginevra took a deep breath and turned. "Harry," she said politely. "My aunt has a way with her words, as ever."

Harry smiled at her and she noted that he had hardly changed at all since she had seen him last, which may have been more than a year ago now. He still had that messy black hair, cut short enough to keep out of his bottle-green eyes, but not too short to reveal his lightning-shaped scar or to be seen as unfashionable. His travels had given him a little coarseness to his skin, but it suited him well. And yet, he still had that awkwardness about him. "I have come to be accustomed to your aunt's bluntness," he said with humour. "But, I had come to seek you for the first two dances, if you would oblige me?"

Here, Ginevra faltered. "You want to dance?" she asked, disbelieving him. "You hate to dance."

Harry looked down momentarily, apparently embarrassed by his next choice of words. "I shouldn't hate to dance when you look so lovely this evening, Ginny," he said quietly, averting his eyes.

Ginevra stared at him with her mouth open. "Harry, what are you doing here?" She knew that wasn't an answer, but she needed to know why he had suddenly decided to enter London when he had expressed such hatred for it and the season in the past.

"I missed you all," he replied with ease. "And I thought I should visit my godson. Travelling has been interesting, but the adventure isn't quite the same without Ron and Hermione..." Harry looked at her with wide eyes, realising what he had said; excluding her again.

"It is fine, do not apologise, Harry," she said, holding her hand up to stop him when she noticed he was about to speak. "I have long since realised that I was not ever going to be a part of your adventures. And, I cannot dance with you."

Harry had the decency to hide his surprise somewhat. "You cannot dance these two with me? Or at all?"

"At all," she replied, genuinely apologetic. It would have been good to speak with him again and find out what he had been doing on his travels, but she needed to get the awkward explanations out of the way before Draco rejoined her. "I... I am engaged for all dances this evening."

"Is that not improper?" he asked, taken aback.

Ginevra smiled at him, finding it funny that he should be speaking of propriety when he was most likely only second to her brothers when it came to bluntness and lack of social etiquette. "Not when you are engaged by the man who is formally courting you," she said frankly, showing him the bracelet at her wrist.

Harry stared at it and back at her a few times. "'M'?" he asked suspiciously. "I thought you did not come here to be courted?"

"I didn't," she explained. "It just happened naturally, as these things are wont to do."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment before asking who 'M' was with some hesitancy.

"I am surprised my aunt could not resist telling you, and I am most surprised at you having managed to make your way to this end of the ball room without hearing about it," she said with a sigh, if he had heard, it would have saved her much trouble and red faces.

"You know I do not listen to gossip," he said simply.

Ginevra regarded Harry for a moment, wondering if his true intentions were what he had said for returning, or if he had hoped he could rekindle their relationship. "It is Draco Malfoy."

" _What_?" he said loudly. " _Malfoy_? Has all this," he gestured to their surroundings, "gone to your head? Are you so desperate to get a sponsor at St. Mungo's? I said I could help with that, if only you would let -."

Ginevra crossed her arms, sure that anger was written across her face. "How dare you?" she said through gritted teeth, certain that she should have struck him were there not so many people around. "How dare you come back here and think that you can accuse me so undeservedly and so wrongly? You have no business -."

"Potter, welcome home." Draco had returned at a rather unfortunate moment, but she felt glad of his presence beside her. "Will you join us for some refreshments?"

"Harry was just leaving," Ginevra interjected, glaring at Harry as he stared back in disbelief and then seeing the look of realisation flooding his face for the second time. "Don't apologise, I don't want to hear it."

"Does Ron know? Do your parents know?" he asked instead, stopping himself from uttering an apology.

"No, not as yet," she said coldly. "And it is not their business until I see that it is. Good evening, Harry." With that, she brushed past him and stalked away, needing to calm herself down. How dare he accuse her of such low cunning, of such superficial designs? Did he believe she would wait for him until he was ready to return? Did he ever really know her at all? It seemed not, but she felt relieved to know this. It made everything so much easier.

"Ginevra, wait!" Draco caught her hand to stop her progress through the crowd, much of whom were too distracted by the evening's entertainment to notice anything untoward happening around them. "What did Potter want?"

"To dance," she answered shortly, barely able to look at Draco through her rage. "To insult me, to make ridiculous assumptions of me. Come," she said abruptly, gripping his hand and pulling him along behind her. "I want to dance."

Draco accepted this and followed without protest, possibly deciding against questioning her further about Harry, of whom she could hear whispers of now from amongst the crowd. Of course, Harry being there would stir up much excitement; he was, after all, the most eligible bachelor in wizarding Britain. Thankfully the first dance of the ball would be a Polka, one of her favourites because of the exuberance it required, that and it would help assuage her anger at Harry.

"You seem frustrated, Ginevra," Draco said as they took their place in the dance.

"Then dance better than you ever have before," she whispered fiercely. "After this dance, he will never question my intentions again."

Draco smiled down at her as they faced each other and bowed customarily. "You are quite something to behold when you are in anger, Ginevra," he murmured to her, their eyes never leaving each others as he placed his hand at her back and she lay hers on his shoulder, their free hands meeting just as the music began. Both circled and stepped slowly in time to the music, their gaze still not breaking as they skipped side-by-side. Ginevra's anger at Harry began to drift away, quicker than she had anticipated, as the dance progressed faster and they finally faced each other again. She smiled as she started to feel the fun she was supposed to be having and relaxed further into Draco's arms.

Draco moved elegantly with her in perfect time to the music, the firm feel of his hand at her back suggesting that he would not lead her wrong. The passion she had felt back in Lady Selwyn's drawing room came back by degrees and she was certain Draco was experiencing it at the same time, by the way his eyes lit up with that fire she had seen earlier, how could he not be? Ginevra became very aware of her beating heart then and she knew it's racing was not being caused by the exertion; it was then that she knew she belonged to him, her heart was his to do as he pleased, her body was his to guide, and her lips... well, her lips were his to capture with his own.

The thoughts and feelings became so overwhelming that she thought her heart would be fit to burst from her as he spun her about him with ease, his feet so well trained to the music, and her breath catching in her throat as he pulled her back to him a little closer than was allowed.

"You mustn't!" she whispered fearfully, her eyes wide, but he only smiled down at her, perfectly at ease as he stepped back to the required stance in one fluid movement. He made it seem so natural. It was then that she realised the crowds around the edges of the dance were focused on the pair of them, and she found it unnerving to the point of distraction, especially as she glimpsed Harry staring dumbfounded at the front of the sidelines.

"Don't look at him, or any of them, Ginevra," Draco muttered, drawing her gaze back to him as he picked her up by her waist momentarily in his strong grip. "They are nothing at all..." he said softly as he placed her back down to resume their rhythmic step.

But then the dance ended and polite applause erupted from the standing crowd. Draco's warmth disappeared from her as they parted to stand side-by-side and bow to those watching, but his hand was back in hers just as quickly as it had left as he led her away from the floor.

"Was that sufficient, Ginevra?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm, his breath a touch heavy from the exertion.

Sufficient? she had thought to herself. No words could describe their dance befittingly enough. "I have never been danced with so well as that," she replied truthfully. "'Sufficient' does not do it justice."

"I am glad to hear it," he said in a low voice. "I followed your wishes well, so what favour do I get in return, sweet Ginevra?"

She turned away from him to hide her sudden smile, passing it off as though in mock thought. Ginevra was limited in gifts to give him, but she had the perfect one and she looked at him over her shoulder with her eyes lowered. "Perhaps another kiss will do," she whispered.

* * *

 **A/N:** Truly, I am working on the Rise and the Fall, but I need to get this story out of my system and the ideas simply keep flowing! I just can't resist the fluffiness. Once again, thank you for all your reviews, I do hope you have enjoyed this chapter as much as I have in writing it.


	5. An Unwanted Proposal

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

 **The Marriage Market**

 **Chapter V**

 **An Unwanted Proposal**

Ginevra opened her bedroom door when she heard voices down in the entrance hall and looked down over the banister to see who it was.

"Here so soon, Mr. Malfoy?" she heard her aunt say. "We are yet to sit for breakfast."

"My apologies, Mrs Prewett," Draco said. "I awoke early this morning and thought to come here directly."

Mrs Prewett gave a good-natured laugh. "But then you must join us for breakfast, Mr. Malfoy," her aunt stated in such a manner to say she would not accept a refusal. "I will let Ginevra know you are here. Please go into the parlour whilst she readies herself."

At that point, Draco looked up despite having no cause to and saw her looking down upon him in her bedclothes. Ginevra did not move back in embarrassment as she supposed she should and he did not turn away as any gentleman should, no, he simply winked.

"Ginevra," her aunt called as she ascended the stairs, and that was her cue to go back into her room and dress. It did not take her very long at all as her aunt assisted her, waving her wand as though a conductor of a well-rehearsed orchestra. "Mr. Malfoy is very keen, Ginevra," her aunt spoke with excitement. "I am very proud of you, very proud. If this carries on, I daresay a proposal will soon be upon the horizon."

Ginevra did not know how to feel about this, of course it would be the natural conclusion to their courtship. She knew that if he were to take her hand in a dance such as the night before and propose her marriage, she would not be able to say no to him. That much had been made plain by the way in which her body and her heart had reacted to him. And then, what would happen? Ginevra had not thought much in the previous weeks about St. Mungo's, Draco had occupied most of her thoughts and time, but there would be no room for such a notion upon being wed to a wizard of a great estate such as his. It would be expected of her to bear his child soon after their marriage to safeguard the name and fortunes of the Malfoy estate as quickly as possible.

"You musn't get too ahead of yourself, aunt," she said quietly. "I keep saying this. Mr. Malfoy may decide we are not compatible."

Muriel tutted. "Ginevra, it is plain for all to see that this wizard is in love with you," she said in exasperation. "Why he has not yet proposed is a different matter. Rose believes he must be securing the estate before he thinks of doing such a thing, but I believe the boy needs encouragement. I know you well enough, Ginevra, to guess of your stubbornness."

Ginevra frowned at her aunt, standing up to look herself over in the full-length mirror. "I have not been stubborn, aunt," she said defensively.

"Just... allow him to take certain, shall we say, _liberties_ with you, Ginevra," her aunt said quietly, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "It will not matter once you are wed."

Ginevra did not have the courage to tell her aunt that he had already taken liberties with her and she had been a most willing participant. Ginevra guessed that his early arrival today was only to claim the kiss she had promised the night before. "So you would have him come to my bedroom, aunt?"

Muriel gasped with shock. "Dear child! I refer to nothing of the sort," she said, aghast at her niece's implications. "I meant only a kiss, child! Save that for the marriage bed!"

Ginevra laughed, guessing her aunt would react in such a manner. "I am teasing, aunt," she said, turning to her. "Shall we have breakfast then?"

They descended the stairs together and Draco was called from the parlour to join them for breakfast, which they ate in relative silence until tea was served to them.

"What are your plans for today, Mr. Malfoy?" Muriel asked politely as she poured them all tea.

"If you would allow it, Mrs Prewett, my intention was to spend a little time alone with Miss Weasley this morning," he replied, accepting the tea with thanks. "But I must return to the Manor by lunch in readiness for your arrival. I do not trust the house elves to give you the best rooms nor to order the best food."

Ginevra had almost forgotten about their agreement to stay at Malfoy Manor. "I suppose the grounds will be in better condition? It has become warmer sooner than anticipated."

"I hope so, they are quite beautiful when in full bloom," he answered casually. "But, you are both still able to stay at the Manor? Do your parents have no objection to it, Miss Weasley?"

Muriel answered for her, which she was grateful for as she had not had the inclination to inform her parents of her courtship. "Ginevra is under my care for the season, Mr. Malfoy, it is with my permission that she goes." Muriel said this with authority; damned be anyone who should get in the way of her glory. But it made Ginevra think that she should perhaps tell them soon, it would not be fair for them to hear it from anyone else but their own daughter. "I look forward to this wedding too," Muriel continued in a more relaxed tone of voice. "Weddings do make one rather excited, and you know, once there has been one wedding, many others are sure to follow."

"It is always the way, Mrs Prewett," Draco agreed.

"I think people rush into these things too hastily," Ginevra said. "One cannot underestimate how important it is to know your life partner before being wed, nor should it be entered into so lightly until both parties are certain of their love for each other."

Draco considered this for a moment. "Those things are ultimately important to the success of marriage and the future happiness of the husband and wife," he said, "and also to the happiness of any children. But many people do not have the luxury of waiting and finding these things out."

Ginevra shook her head. "In some cases, yes," she agreed. "But, in most, it is impatience and temptation."

"Ginevra..." Muriel said this as a warning, most likely as a response to her final implication.

"Some would say they marry in haste because they know it would be futile to wait," he replied, determination in his face now. "My own mother and father are an example; they met again after Hogwarts and were married within a month, so strong was their love. And they still loved as they had done at the beginning to the end."

"Your own parents eloped, Ginevra," Muriel sniffed, evidently she still found this to be offensive. "Foolish, though they were, one could never say they have not had a happy marriage. Poor, yes, but never unhappy." As ever, Muriel had an excellent way of making any situation awkward. It was her most proficient talent. "At any rate, I have matters of the house to attend to and lunch will come faster than you will expect, Mr. Malfoy. You and Ginevra may sit together in the drawing room."

Her aunt left them alone then and they both left the table to follow Muriel's instructions to sit in the drawing room. It had a pleasant view of the small courtyard at the back of the house, which was well maintained, even during the winter, and received a decent amount of sunshine from noon onwards. The harp and piano sat in the corner of the room alongside a couple of tall bookcases, and a sofa and two comfortable armchairs were placed in the middle of the room around a small mahogany table.

Ginevra made her way over to the bookcases and attempted to find one of the newer additions as Draco shut the door. As she was about to reach for one, she felt his hand take hers and spin her to face him; he was impossibly close, their bodies pressing against each other, so much so that she had to keep her hands behind her between her back and the uncomfortable edges of the shelves. A thrill of excitement ran through her as his lips descended upon hers with fervency, his hands at her waist as he drew her in, and his body emanated a comforting warmth around her.

No matter how much her aunt did not want to discuss the marriage bed and the temptations that led to it, Ginevra was well-versed in what happened there and what it felt to desire it. Her own mother was a practical sort of person and of the same mind as many others of her generation, in that their children should be made aware of how children came to be in the first place so as to promote abstinence until marriage. It was now that those wanton feelings came unbidden to her; a fire alighted deep within the pit of her stomach and her heart beat a sensual rhythm in her chest, her own body moved into his of it's own volition and instinct.

But, then he pulled away and his warmth left her just as suddenly as he stopped. Ginevra was feeling quite content as she stayed leaning back against the bookcase, but he appeared to be in agitation when he turned abruptly from her and ran a hand roughly through his wavy hair.

"What is the matter?" she asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"We mustn't continue in this way, Ginevra," he said huskily, facing her again. There was a shade of a primal look in his eyes as he looked upon her then. "I cannot let my thoughts overpower me."

"What thoughts?" she said quietly, perhaps already aware of his answer. Draco continued to stare at her, his gaze strong and unyielding, but there was a hesitancy in him and she knew he was afraid to offend her. One who had not minded offending anyone before. "Are we still not in agreement to speak freely to one another, Draco?"

He looked away from her then, clearly still in frustration as he sighed forcefully. "Yes," he said quietly and he returned to her side, lowering his head to speak in her ear. Of course he could not risk being overheard. "My thoughts are of the impure sort, Ginevra, even as I promised that my intentions were pure. In truth, I imagine how I would lay you upon my sheets and..." Here he trailed off, unable to continue.

"I... I have also had... impure thoughts," she admitted and he laughed shortly into her ear, a little nervousness there too.

"Perhaps we should not be alone together," he suggested softly, tracing his fingers up her arm. "Your aunt is too trusting of me."

"My aunt knows I would hex you if I did not like where you were leading me," she replied in honesty.

Draco only laughed at this, stepping back from her. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, sweet Ginevra," he said in humour as he held out his hand to her. "But let us return to propriety, perhaps you can read aloud to me?"

Ginevra took his hand and allowed him to pull her down with him into one of the armchairs. "This is proper?" she asked doubtfully as he had guided her into his lap so that her legs dangled over the arm of the chair and his arms kept her close.

"Far more than our previous discussion," he replied shortly and he Summoned a random book from the shelf, "and it is an adequate enough consolation for not kissing you, which has been the cause for the impropriety. Ah, I seem to have selected a romance," he said as he caught the book mid-air and turned it over to examine it. "Though perhaps it can give me some advice on how to proceed with you."

"Witches in romance novels are not like witches in reality, Draco," she replied knowingly, smiling at his joke. "You will have to exercise your own wit and cunning, I am afraid."

Draco gave a casual shrug. "I suppose I have gotten this far using my own charms, what could a book possibly tell me now?"

"Not much," she replied. "But, that is the fun in reading it; to escape reality from time to time."

"Then you must read it to me," he requested. "I can perhaps stop thinking of you for a moment." Ginevra looked up at him when she became overwhelmed by her own thoughts. She did not want him to stop thinking of her, she had wanted him to finish telling her of his improper thoughts and she had wanted him to continue kissing her. "Do not look at me in such a way, Ginevra." He was not demanding her, no, he was begging her.

"In what way?" she whispered, her eyes drifting down to his lips before returning to his worried gaze. Ginevra could not comprehend his worry when she felt so uncharacteristically at ease.

Draco sighed deeply. "With lust," he murmured.

"You are imagining things, Draco," she said softly as she dared to raise her hand and touch his bare throat, her fingers tracing a pattern. Ginevra had never touched his bare skin aside from his hand before now, and she wondered if she would regret it when he growled with pleasure and seized her hand at the same time. The action caused her to gasp in surprise and he grabbed the opportunity to kiss her deeply.

This was rough and urgent and her lustful thoughts came hurtling back in an instant. She felt as though she could barely breathe for the excitement flowing through her and so she had to clasp at his head, her fingers entangling in his soft hair as she pressured him to free her mouth. His natural response was to encircle her in his arms tighter and closer as he kissed her gently along her throat and, perhaps irrationally, her chest. Nothing mattered to her then, nothing at all except that he should stay holding her as he was and taking as many liberties as he so wished with her.

"Tell me you won't hex me, sweet Ginevra," he said, almost in desperation.

Ginevra tried to stop and think, but her attempt failed miserably. "I won't, I won't," she said in just as much desperation as he.

"Good," he said simply and he picked her up in his arms with great ease to place her on the sofa, where he leant over her to continue their kiss.

"Ginevra!" her aunt's shout rang through the house, causing them to jump away from each other in an instant, fear entering their hearts and faces as they stared at the door. "Ginevra, come out here quickly!"

Draco breathed a visible sigh of relief as he sank back into the armchair and watched her leave the room. She did hope he would realise that he looked quite dishevelled before anyone might see him, it made her think that perhaps she did not look as presentable as she had earlier.

"Ginevra, Mr. Potter is at the door," her aunt said quietly as her niece approached, calm and collected. "Dear child!" she exclaimed. "What have you been doing?!"

Ginevra immediately felt herself flush. "Noth-."

Muriel held up a hand and closed her eyes. "I've decided I would rather not know," she said in a stern voice. "Just do not be foolish, I beg of you. Now, Mr. Potter is at the door asking for you directly, should I let him in? Mind, I will not permit him to be alone with you as he was wont to do."

Ginevra nodded. "That is fine, aunt," she replied. "He can join us all in the drawing room." How wise this was, she did not know at present. Before she made her way back to the drawing room, she made sure her aunt fixed her untidiness. She did not want Harry to know anything untoward had occurred; he would most definitely warn her parents of the situation.

Both women made their way into the drawing room in readiness of Harry entering the house. Draco looked slightly stricken as he laid eyes upon her aunt, no doubt thinking she had come to scold him. "Mr. Potter will be joining us shortly, Mr. Malfoy," she told him. "But, he will not be here long," she added decisively. Draco visibly relaxed, but threw a questioning look at Ginevra, to which she could not respond. How could she know what Harry wanted? She thought she had made it plain that she no longer wished to discuss anything further with him the evening before.

They rose from their chairs when Harry entered the room, a look of surprise upon his face when saw that Draco was also there, a look which quickly turned to disappointment. Harry had always been just as bad as she at hiding emotions.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," her aunt said politely, though Ginevra could tell that she was distinctly put out by this visit. "What brings you here today?"

"Oh... well, I... I had hoped to speak with Ginny alone," he answered, his manner very awkward.

Muriel gave a slight scoff. "Mr. Potter, of course that would not be proper, I cannot allow it," she said firmly.

Ginevra felt awfully sorry for him indeed, she could just imagine how difficult it was for him to say that out loud in front of her aunt, and Draco for that matter. Draco's entire expression was blank as he surveyed the scene in front of him, he would not reveal anything until he wished it. Harry gave her an imploring look as if asking her to repeat the request herself, as if that would have changed her aunt's mind. No amount of sympathy for his current embarrassment would induce her to supplicate her aunt, Ginevra was still simmering from his unfounded accusations of the night before.

"Why don't you have some tea with us, Harry?" she said instead, trying to alleviate the tension in the room. "And you have not yet heard me playing the harp, you must allow me to play."

Harry seemed to brighten up at this. "Yes, yes, I should like to hear you play, Ginny," he said quietly, resigned to his situation. Ginevra began to set up the harp and pick out a sheet of music while the others conversed.

"Are you in town long, Mr. Potter?" Draco asked in a civil tone.

"No, not at all," Harry replied in a similar tone. Apparently seven years worth of school rivalry was enough to set the pair of them against each other for the rest of their lives. "I only intended to visit my old friends and my godson."

"'Intended'?" Draco said. "Have your intentions changed since arriving in London?"

Ginevra could tell Harry was becoming uncomfortable. "Yes, I suppose they have."

Muriel perked up instantly. "But, of course, you must be in search of a wife, Mr. Potter!" she said happily, her previous aloofness completely disappearing. "I know many young witches who will oblige to meet you in an instant, you must allow me -."

"Oh, no...no, no," Harry said in alarm, dousing Muriel's excitement. "I should like to find my own wife, Mrs Prewett, but thank you for offering. I am much obliged." Harry's 'thank you' may as well have been a slap in the face for the sheer look of disgruntled disappointment on her aunt's face was much to behold.

"So, you are in search of a wife?" Draco said with interest.

Harry laughed nervously. "Not... not as such," he said. "I am -."

"I am ready to play now," she interrupted, no longer able to watch Harry squirm despite her own curiosity at what his plan was for his stay in London.

Harry looked immensely relieved and stood up from his seat. "I will assist you, Ginny," he said as he walked over to her.

Draco did not like that at all, the smooth blankness he had managed to affect before was replaced by a glowering sneer as Harry stood beside her. Thankfully, she had begun to play by the time she had noticed it and her aunt had managed to avert his attention to her quickly enough. The music of the harp was too loud to hear what they were saying from their place at the sofa.

It did not take long for Harry to show why he had jumped up to assist her. "May I speak frankly to you, Ginny?" he asked quietly enough under the cover of the music.

Ginevra felt apprehensive at what he would say next, but nodded her agreement. "I can see you will not be able to rest if you do not."

"Thank you," he said with a smile, turning the sheet of music so she could continue. "I wanted to say that I think this to be a mistake, Ginny, and, please do not be offended, an undesirable match." Harry paused here, searching her face for any indication that he should not continue, but he found none. "I was wrong in the way I expressed that last night, but you must see how strange this is to me? To see you with Malfoy... it is not right."

"It is not right to you, Harry," she replied calmly, willing herself not to anger, "because you have not been here to witness it. You cannot say what is right or wrong in matters of the heart, Harry."

Harry looked stricken here, so much so that Ginevra thought that he may not speak ever again. And then he gave a nervous laugh. "So, you are in love with him, then?" he asked with reluctance.

Ginevra stared back at him, sure she was touching the wrong strings in her bemusement at his questioning. "Why are you asking me this?"

He glanced over at Muriel and Draco, who were both still in conversation, though how much Draco was listening to her aunt, Ginevra could not say. There was not a chance that he could hear her conversation with Harry, but he kept throwing suspicious looks at them every now and then. Harry turned his back on them before he spoke, visibly steeling himself for whatever he were about to say next. "Because if you are not in love with him, Ginny, then I would wish to beg for your hand instead."

The music stopped abruptly and Harry went deeply red as her aunt and Draco turned to see what had happened.

Ginevra laughed. "Harry, you must turn the pages," she said with humour.

"Oh, I am sorry, I am not well practiced at this," he mumbled back as he turned the page again so she could resume. Neither suspected anything odd had occurred.

Ginevra continued to play in silence as he gazed down at her, awaiting an answer. This was so unlike Harry, it did not make any sense. "Is this some misguided attempt to rescue me from the evil clutches of Malfoy?" she asked sarcastically. "Hermione always said you had a hero complex. Well, I don't need saving, Harry, at all. I am capable of looking after myself and knowing my own mind."

For the first time since he arrived, Harry looked irritated by her words. "I do not have a hero complex," he said defensively. "And I am well aware of your strength as a witch, Ginny. It is seeing you with Malfoy, it has made me realise..." he trailed off as he appeared agitated before forcing himself to finish. "It made me realise how much I missed you, and how much I loved you."

Ginevra stared in awe at him, shocked at his admission. "Harry... I-I don't know what to say," she said.

"All you have to say, Ginny, is that you consent to be my wife and end this charade with Malfoy," he replied in a firm voice now, obviously wishing to end this as soon as possible.

Ginevra looked over at Draco; this was not a charade, that she knew for certain. Could Harry not see from their dance the previous evening that they were far from being a charade? It deeply offended her that he should still believe that she would entertain marriage with someone whom she did not love. It deeply offended her that he should assume he could resume their relationship as it had been before he had left. "I cannot say that, Harry," she answered with finality. "If I accepted your suit, then I would be playing a charade. I do not comprehend your belief that I should still be in love with you when you have been gone a year or so without so much as a letter to me in that time. I am sorry that you have realised these things too late, Harry, but I cannot oblige your request."

Harry looked dumbfounded, shocked at her refusal of him. "Because of him? Is it because of _him_?" he said, so much confusion in his voice. "You marry him, Ginny, and your reputation within the Order will be ruined. And that is nothing compared to what Ron will do, I can't even say what he would do."

Ginevra could feel herself becoming angry, but she quelled it with all her willpower. Harry had been rejected, and he was wont to say thoughtless things when agitated. "Harry, you left me for an entire year. It is nothing to do with Draco -."

" _Draco_?" he bit out, his features pulled into disgust. "So you are on first name terms?"

Ginevra stopped playing then, her anger getting the better of her as it always eventually did. "It is nothing to do with him, Harry!" she said loudly, standing up now and not caring that anyone else heard. Harry needed to understand immediately. "It is all to do with you and how you abandoned me to go off on another adventure; it was the same at Hogwarts! Was I not always excluded from you, Ron and Hermione's quest to save the world?!"

"Ginny, I -."

"No, you will listen, Harry Potter!" she continued loudly. "You expect me to fall at your feet and continue with you as we were before? You see me with Draco and decide that you are jealous? No! No, you are not allowed to do that, you lost your chance of any of that the second you left this country!"

The room was now ringing with dreadful silence as all in the room stared at her with shock. Harry shuffled away from her then, mumbling something about leaving; she was not certain of his exact words as the blood was pumping so fast in her ears, it made it very difficult to hear. Once he had left the room, Ginevra sat back down and began playing the harp again, not wishing to be spoken to for the length of the song. Ginevra was certain that she played like she had never played before with all her adrenaline rushing through her and her anger.

"Ginevra...?" her aunt said tentatively once she allowed her niece to finish and put away the music.

"Yes, aunt?" she said stiffly, turning to face Muriel.

"I am very proud of you, dear child," Muriel said in awe.

"Careful, aunt, that is the second time you have said that to me in two days," Ginevra said, now with a smile. "I may begin to worry for your sanity."

Muriel looked from her to Draco, as though trying to decide whether or not she should say what she was dying to. Ginevra could always tell when her aunt was bursting to voice her thoughts and opinions, her fidgeting was the first giveaway. "Tell me what caused your anger, Ginevra," she finally said, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"He asked me to be his wife," she replied simply as she sat on the sofa beside her aunt.

Draco immediately started from his chair. "That is highly improper!" he said in great vexation. "To ask for a witch's hand when she is being courted by another wizard is disrespectful!" He made to leave the room, his wand drawn, no doubt to try and attempt to jinx Harry terribly.

"Do sit down, Draco," Ginevra said in exasperation. "Harry's knowledge of etiquette and such like is woefully lacking. It is not a personal slight on you, no matter your past history. I have punished him enough."

"Nevertheless, Ginevra," her aunt interjected, "it is unheard of for a wizard to try and steal another's claim to a witch. Surely, he must know this."

Ginevra frowned at her aunt. "I am not a prize to be claimed, aunt."

"Men are territorial beings, Ginevra," her aunt explained with a knowing look. "It is in their nature to behave like this." She gestured to Draco, who was still at the door with his wand drawn, evidently still deciding whether he should listen to Ginevra or the anger pulsing in his veins.

"That is well and good, aunt, but I have dealt with Harry," she said firmly. "And he will thank me for it one day when he is at home, content with his wife and children."

Draco sheathed his wand back in his belt then. "I pity Potter," he said decisively. "He has made an irreparable mistake and I am indebted to him for his interference on my behalf with the Ministry. His loss of you is punishment enough."

Muriel left them alone once more for the rest of the morning once she was certain that all was well after Ginevra's outburst. Ginevra took up the book Draco had chosen earlier and read it aloud for almost three quarters of an hour, this time seated in her own chair, before her voice grew hoarse.

"An excellent start to a novel, I must say," Draco commented as Ginevra put the book back on the shelf. "You must finish reading it to me when I am back here."

"I will, if you should wish to come back here again," she said softly.

"You know that I would," he answered, gesturing for her to sit with him once more.

Ginevra shook her head. "I mustn't," she said with fear in her voice. "I had better thank Harry for arriving when he did, I... I dread to think what I should have allowed to happen."

"It won't happen again," he promised, his tone stern.

She looked him completely in the eyes. "That is the problem," she whispered, believing that if she should say it aloud then it would make her the worse kind of lady. "I shouldn't mind if it was to happen again."

Draco stood up then and strode over to her to pull her to him. "Think on that while we are apart, then," he muttered in her ear. "There will be more privacy at the manor to indulge your wanton fantasies."

"Oh..." she gasped softly, not expecting him to say such a thing.

"I am teasing, Ginevra," he said with a laugh, his face in her neck. "At any rate, I need to leave for the manor, but I shall see you in a few days."

"Yes, though my aunt will be vying to leave tomorrow," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, do try to keep her from leaving so soon, the house elves will need time to prepare your rooms and arrange food," he said as he stepped away from her in readiness to leave. "I have also arranged a Portkey for three days time, so she will be far happier using that."

"She will, but my aunt never likes to listen to reason," she said with a sigh.

Draco just smiled at her then, before taking his leave of her. Ginevra had thought he would kiss her again, but he did not, leaving her feeling rather confused. Rather than staying in the drawing room, Ginevra decided that she had better not delay the letter she dreaded to write to her parents, and so made her way back up to her bedroom.

She thought about what to write for near enough three quarters of an hour before finally dipping her quill in the ink and beginning to write.

 _Dear Mother and Father,_

 _I am sorry for not writing to you as frequently as you may have liked. The truth is that I have met a gentleman in London and have entered into formal courtship with him._

 _I am still in pursuit of a sponsor for my entrance into St. Mungo's, but I am ashamed to admit that I have allowed this to slip by the wayside in favour of more entertaining pursuits. If my aunt Muriel is to be believed, the gentleman in question only has the highest of intentions for me and I have seen nothing in his manner or behaviour to contradict her. He has been undeniably accommodating to my own outbursts of rudeness, and he has shown me nothing but affection and respect._

 _I delay writing his name to you, I know, but I must make you aware of all I have written so that you understand and do not think wrongly of him, nor of me. In short, I am being courted by Draco Malfoy._

 _I know this will be a shock to you after his rivalry with Harry, my brother and Hermione, but he is not as he was back then. I am also not foolish to believe that they could ever be friends, but I beg of you to permit me to continue in courtship with him and to trust my judgement of his character. We have much in common including our taste in music and books, and our mutual enjoyment of Quidditch. There is much that he is doing for displaced children from the last war; he is patron of a charity housing orphaned children and finding them families, he even donated an estate in Norfolk to be used as an orphanage._

 _My aunt and I have also been invited to stay at his country residence in Wiltshire prior to a wedding we will be attending at an adjoining county. Of course, this may alarm you, but I wish to remind you of my own proficiency in hexes and jinxes, also that my aunt will be chaperoning me and that Draco has never been anything but a perfect gentleman._

 _I would be very grateful if you could keep this from my brothers for the time being, as I should like to tell them myself._

 _Your daughter,_

 _Ginevra_

She read and reread the letter at least ten times or more before sending it out. Her owl, Athena, could probably sense that her owner was out of sorts as she nipped her finger gently before taking flight with the letter. Ginevra felt grateful that at least her owl would be by her side if all did not go to plan.

* * *

 **A/N:** Once again, thank you for all your reviews, they are genuinely inspiring to read and I appreciate each one of them. So, again, thank you so much! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter - the next one will be posted soon as I am just putting a few finishing touches on it. Also, just a warning, I never intended this story to be that long and thankfully it seems to be coming to a natural end.


	6. An Undesirable Match

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

 **The Marriage Market**

 **Chapter VI**

 **An Undesirable Match**

Draco sprawled out under his bedsheets as he relaxed against his pillows. He felt contentment being back at the manor again after so many months away; the last time he had been away from home for so long was when he had been at Hogwarts and, back then, home hadn't mattered much to him. He had rather be at school, causing mischief and lording it over Crabbe and Goyle. That was not to say that he did not enjoy his holidays, he did until the end of his fifth year when the Dark Lord had decided to punish his father... But Draco did not want to think about that, those times were done, all thanks to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Thinking about Potter made him wonder how much his proposal to Ginevra was out of love or an attempt to 'rescue' her from Draco. Whatever it was, Potter's proposal had been refused and Draco felt as though he may be ever closer to securing Ginevra's hand for himself. In truth, he was not jealous or angry at Potter; if he was jealous then that would mean he did not trust Ginevra, and if he were angry at Potter, well that would mean he felt insecure about his own suit. And, after the morning's escapades, how could he ever doubt the success of his suit?

Seeing that look of unguarded lust in Ginevra's eyes had caused him to lose the scrap of willpower he had been clinging onto at that very moment, he had foolishly fell into the trap of temptation and could have claimed her body as his own had it not been for Potter's timely interruption. Ginevra would have allowed it to happen, but he could not take such a risk again; he did not know if she was aware of the very real possibility that she could have become pregnant, how could he know how open her own parents were with her in regards to that? What Draco did know was that a great many witches and wizards did not get told such things by their parents or older siblings until their wedding night, despite the Ministry's pressure to liberalise the matter. He could only assume the worst and guess that she did not know. Were they to have given into their lust and she to have become pregnant, only for her parents to deny their permission for her to wed would be disastrous. It would be a scandal for her and reputational suicide for them both.

Draco could survive through it, he would not lose his wealth but Ginevra, well, their were many horrific stories of unwed mothers in the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. He knew it could not happen again, but he doubted his own willpower should he be faced with that look in her eyes again. Even now, he vaguely imagined her submitting to him in the very bed he lay upon. This he knew was he own embellishment, Ginevra would never submit, he thought with a smile.

The following day, Draco had awoken to find a house elf at the foot of his bed holding a silver tray above his large, bat-like ears. On the tray was a letter.

Thinking it was from Ginevra, he seized the letter and tore it open, only to find the handwriting did not match and a newspaper cutting of one of the wizarding society papers within. Draco recognised the handwriting immediately as that of his old school girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, now Montague, and groaned when he saw the picture in the newspaper she had enclosed; it was a very well-drawn colour image of himself dancing with Ginevra at the mid-season ball. The artist had captured the moment perfectly, the fire in her eyes and the fluidity with which she danced with him. Draco would need to remember to find out who had drawn the image and request the original. But he had to pay attention to the letter that had delivered the picture, and Draco had no doubt what Pansy could possibly wish to say to him.

 _Draco,_

 _I trust you are well? According to the society papers, you are very, very well. Or perhaps you need to be committed?_

 _The paper seems to believe that you are courting this Weasley girl, and I am assuredly appalled that they should tell such lies about you and your character. That is until I had a visit from our mutual friend, Blaise, who has been in town with you for the duration of your descent into madness. I even question his sanity when he defends this witch._

 _Blaise tells me you are at home for the Higgs-Robbins wedding, so I send this letter as a warning of my arrival at the manor at ten o'clock._

 _Your concerned friend,_

 _Pansy_

Draco wondered what business was it of others to concern themselves with his affairs, why was it of such importance that he should be courting Ginevra Weasley? The war was over, the pathetic rivalry in school had not been with her, he had not had much to do with her in school, so why should it come as a shock? There were many that still held to the old beliefs in secret, but he was truly not one of them; he had seen far too much pain and death to realise that those ideals were misguided and had no place in modern society.

Pansy had always had a soft spot for him and, he suspected, still held a little resentment because he had not married her. Draco suspected that, although respectful of each other, Pansy and Montague had a loveless marriage. They had yet to even produce an heir in the three years that they had been married. But, he could not marry her back then, he was happy to be unattached and there had been no pressure to marry as his parents were still alive. Pansy probably would have waited for him, but her own parents had pushed her into marriage. That, and he had never truly loved her; for him, they would only ever be friends.

By ten o'clock, Draco was impatient to send Pansy off before she had even arrived, knowing well enough what her intentions were in coming to see him. Pansy eventually arrived outside the gates of the manor half an hour after she had stated; she had always liked to keep people waiting and he would be treated with no such difference as anyone else. In the past, she would have been as punctual as she would have been arriving for Potions and Professor Snape, but times had inevitably changed.

"Draco," she said warmly as he greeted her in the entrance hall. "You are looking very well. London obviously agrees with you, no matter how much you despise it."

"If you saw the ghastly black smoke those muggle monstrosities put out daily, you would despise it just as well as I," he said with distaste as he led her through to one of the sitting rooms, where the house elves had laid out some tea and cakes. "Chimneys everywhere," he muttered.

They continued to make small talk for some minutes before Pansy realised that he was not going to raise the subject that she had come to speak about. She quickly took it upon herself in that abrupt way she was wont to do when a conversation was not going the way she intended.

"Miss Ginevra Weasley, then, Draco...?" she said in a stern voice, a voice he was certain his mother would have used had she been alive and aware of his marital intentions. "What is the truth in all this gossip?"

Draco considered her for a moment, Pansy had the look of a concerned friend and a little resentment in her eyes, resentment which she was usually able to keep to herself. Draco knew he owed her an honest answer, after all, he had essentially cast her aside when she had needed him most. "I will not lie to you, Pansy," he began in a soft voice. "Zabini has given you the truth, the gossip is all true."

Pansy stared at him in shock, and Draco was glad that she was seated as he thought she might have collapsed upon the floor had she been standing. She sank back in the chair, a defeated look on her face mixed with disappointment. "But, why? Of all the witches you had to choose from... I had even heard the Greengrass girls were in town this season, but you chose Weasley?"

Draco sighed and stood from his chair in agitation. How could he explain to her his reasons why? One could not explain love so easily to another whom did not have the same affection for the person in question. Draco struggled enough with speaking his emotions or showing them, but he supposed that is why Ginevra affected him so; he could say what he was feeling, show what he was feeling. But, Pansy would not understand. "Ginevra is different," he simply answered.

Pansy tutted and stood up, confronting him in a flurry of her skirts, her dark blue eyes wild with impatience. "Utter rubbish!" she said angrily, waving her hand as though batting away an irritating pixie. "All wizards say that when they know they are being irrational! This is an undesirable match, Draco, and you know it as I do."

It was Draco's turn to anger now, no matter how much he tried to repress it in her presence. "You know nothing of it at all, Pansy," he said in a cold voice, glaring down at her. "Ginevra will be my wife, regardless of your feelings about it."

"Have you asked her then?" she said, doubt in her voice as she crossed her arms.

"Not yet -."

"Then she won't," Pansy said harshly. "Her parents will forbid it once it is known to them, and much the better. She has nothing to recommend her; yes, she is in the right circles, she has an uncommon prettiness about her, but she has no fortune, no breeding. What has she to offer the name of Malfoy?" Her voice grew louder and louder with each word until it reverberated off the walls and the paintings looked deeply offended by the noise.

"You know how wealthy I am, she need not offer any fortune," he said shortly, speaking louder when she started huffing with derision. "And of her breeding, she is descended from the Prewett family on her mother's side."

"You sound ridiculous!" she said in exasperation as she threw herself back into her chair and stared back at him still with anger. "Utterly ridiculous... This is surely a joke that you and Blaise are playing on me. I cannot accept this as the truth."

"I have not rushed into this lightly as you assume," he said in a terse voice. "Do you not think I have considered all those things you have mentioned? I intended on securing myself a wife quickly, one that would have made my parents proud. I had wagered that I would throw myself into a loveless marriage, if only to respect their memories." Draco paused, sighing as he sat down; he had always found it hard to speak of his duty to his parents to Pansy and Zabini, both of whom still had at least one parent living. "But, now I do not have to do that. I can't base my future happiness upon what my mother and father would have wanted for me."

Pansy looked infuriated. "I had to! I had to marry a man I had no regard for to please my parents!" she said angrily. "And all because you could not bring yourself to marry me." Draco worried that she might descend into tears as her voice cracked.

"This is why you cannot see past your prejudice of her," he said impatiently. "Pansy, your marriage could be more if you would just pass me over. Montague treats you well, he respects you and trusts you; I daresay you would not be here if he did not. If we had wed, you would have been unhappier than you are now."

"You can't know that," she said sharply. "You refused me to spite me."

"I refused you because I did not love you as a wife," he said blithely. "Would that have been fair to you? To marry you when I did not love you?"

Pansy was now on the verge of tears, his words obviously cutting harshly through her. "You need not be so cruel, Draco," she said stiffly.

"It was not intentional, Pansy, I am trying to make you understand," he implored her. "You are a friend that I do not wish to lose, but I cannot allow Ginevra to pass me by."

"This is your final say, then?" she asked, her manner now aloof as she stood again. "You would throw away all that your ancestors have worked to build for a Weasley? You would have your heirs by this woman, a known blood traitor?"

"You know I do not subscribe to that way of thinking any longer, Pansy," he warned, remaining seated. "And, my ancestors should be grateful for a Weasley entering the family; if she follows her mother's example, I daresay I shall sire many children by her."

This was the last straw for Pansy, she huffed angrily and glared at him before marching out of the sitting room without a word of farewell. Draco then heard the front door slam shut as it made a loud, reverberating sound through the manor, so empty as it was. But, Ginevra would bring life back to the place. They would have a large family, despite his own desire to keep it small; how could he when he knew he would not be able to abstain from her?

But Draco regretted the way Pansy had departed, and wondered if she would ever forgive him. They had become closer friends after Hogwarts and he valued her as someone who would give him unembellished advice and a clip round the ear when he needed it. Draco could not then blame her for the way she had expressed herself just now, it was the kind of advice he would have asked for in any other situation, but he didn't need advice where Ginevra was concerned. He was set in what he wanted to do.

The next few days at the manor passed slowly, even with all the preparations for Ginevra and her aunt's arrival. Draco had ensured the gardens were as beautiful as they could be for the time of year, that both bedrooms they had been allocated were fully furnished and cleaned and that the kitchens were stocked for mealtimes. He had even felt in himself that perhaps he would not wait for this wedding to be over, perhaps he would ask for her hand as soon as they were alone together.

* * *

Ginevra had to steady her aunt as they landed just outside Malfoy Manor, dropping the Portkey to the wayside.

"Thank you, dear," her aunt said as she adjusted her skirts. "Quite a magnificent house, is it not, Ginevra?" she said in awe as she took in their surroundings.

It truly was magnificent in the warm sunshine; they stood by the entrance to the house which was completed in the typical country style of yellow brick, symmetrical architecture and many large sash windows. The driveway sloped down towards an iron wrought gate framed by tall, well-groomed hedges, and the driveway continued further up the length of the house and disappeared beyond a cluster of trees.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" her aunt exclaimed, drawing Ginevra's attention back. "So good of you to meet us!"

"My pleasure, Mrs. Prewett, Miss Weasley," he bowed to both of them with a smile. "Please follow me, the house elves received your luggage earlier this morning. It has been placed in your rooms." Draco, though welcoming, appeared to be tense as he led them through the large front doors.

"A lovely house, this is, Mr. Malfoy," her aunt gushed as she took in the white tiled floor of the entrance hall and newly-painted grey walls with intricate white plastering. "When was it built?"

"In the late seventeenth century by my great-great grandfather, Aloysius Malfoy," he answered with practiced ease. Perhaps it was the done thing to know about one's ancestral home. "This was not the original Malfoy estate, the first estate was built in the Elizabethan age but a fire completely gutted the building. Some paintings do exist of the original, however I prefer this one. It is less grandiose and far more aesthetically pleasing. Apparently, my great-great grandmother had much of the control in terms of the current manor's design."

"As it should be," Muriel said. "Women have an eye for decoration in a way that men do not."

"Well, I have been refurbishing parts of the house here and there, I like to keep in line with modern inventions and tastes," he replied as he now led them up the wooden staircase, a grand thing set into the middle of the hall which swept up on either side of the upper landing. "Both your rooms have recently been finished, I hope they are to your liking."

They reached the uppermost landing and were greeted with a magnificent view of the gardens behind the house which the high-arched windows afforded, along each one were cushioned window seats for taking in the loveliness of the grounds. The curtains were of a fine, thick material woven in damask style, and the floor itself was partially carpeted up the main thoroughfare in a deep-blue colour. Ginevra felt a little overwhelmed by it all, wondering if she might be mistress of all this one day; a job that she had not been raised for at all and one that could be distinctly time consuming, even with house elves.

"This is your room, Mrs. Prewett," Draco announced as they stopped along the hall outside the allotted bedroom door. "Please settle in for as long as you wish."

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Malfoy, thank you," she said as she entered the bedroom and gave Ginevra a meaningful look before shutting her door.

They were alone together now in the hallway, the light shining through the windows onto them as they stood beside each other. "I am certain my aunt will die of happiness very soon," Ginevra said humorously, attempting to break whatever tension he appeared to be holding.

Draco only smiled briefly and returned his attention back to showing her the room she would be staying in. "This way," he said, all stoicism.

"What has upset you, Draco?" she asked, now serious.

A muscle tautened in his jaw before he stopped walking her down the length of the hall, and she became very aware of the portraits that lined the walls, each one pretending to doze. All of them had the same striking blonde hair, some had the same straight nose and some had the same strong jawline. "Pansy visited me a few days ago, her visit has had me out of sorts."

"Pansy?" she blinked, taken aback. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes, though she is married to Montague now," he said in an offhand sort of way.

"Why was she here?" she tried to ask calmly, but she heard her voice go up a few pitches. Ginevra was not one for jealousy, but a man and woman alone was not something to be taken lightly.

"Pansy is a close friend of mine," he explained, possibly realising how inappropriate it sounded to her. "Much like Zabini is. She visited me to know the truth of the gossip."

"And?" she pressed him.

Draco looked distinctly awkward, and Ginevra wondered if this might be the first time she had seen him look so put out. "So I told her the gossip is true, and... she was not very happy about it. She thinks we are an undesirable match."

Ginevra laughed then. "How odd," she chuckled, in spite of his look of incredulity at her reaction. "That is exactly what Harry said to me."

"You don't seem to be as upset as I thought you would be," he muttered, still bemused. "I worry I may have lost Pansy's friendship forever."

"But, why should she not come around?" she asked, trying to be reassuring. "Pansy has her own life, her own husband, soon she will come around."

Draco sighed and turned away from Ginevra, agitation evident in the way he held himself so taut. "Pansy's marriage is not a happy one; they have been married these three years and are yet to produce an heir," he explained, an underlying tone of guilt in his voice, though she could not think why he should feel guilty for his friend's failed marriage. "Pansy's parents were pressuring her to marry at the time of her marriage to Montague, and she turned to me for respite."

Ginevra frowned, failing to see what he was trying to say. "How could you have helped her? You could not have even thought of trying to force her parents to stop."

Draco faced her now, seriousness in his features and the guilt showing in his grey eyes. "Pansy begged me to wed her, she has always loved me more than I ever did for her," he answered with some sadness. "Of course, I refused and I think she has always held some resentment for me ever since. Now, she hears I am courting a Weasley... that, to her, is a great insult."

Ginevra felt an immense pity for the girl she had only ever known as a rude and ignorant bully; it was hard not to when she had evidence of her being so human and making the mistake of loving one who did not love you back. Of course, Ginevra could wholly empathise with that. "I am sure she will forget about it in the coming months," she said, trying to sound confident despite thinking that Draco may have lost Pansy forever, just as she may have lost Harry forever.

CRACK!

A house elf appeared in front of the both of them, a worrisome look evident on its face before it bowed low before Draco.

"Master, Gilly is having a visitor for Miss Weasley," she announced as she straightened up once more, her eyes wide.

Ginevra blinked. Who would visit her here? "Who is it?" she asked, looking at Draco, expecting him to know, but he simply shook his head.

"It is Mr. Arthur Weasley, Miss Weasley," the house elf answered. "He is telling Gilly it is urgent that he must speak with miss."

"That is fine, Gilly, go and let him in," Draco ordered. The house elf disappeared with another CRACK! "You can receive him in the drawing room, Ginevra, come."

Ginevra followed Draco back downstairs to the entrance hall, trepidation filling her heart as she entered the drawing room. All she could think of was how untimely her father's visit was and why could it not wait until she returned to London? Why did he need to come to Malfoy Manor of all places? She eyed Draco as he stood by the marble fireplace, staring into the remnants of an old fire as they waited. As usual, he betrayed no apparent emotion in spite of the brevity of the situation.

For what felt like an age, they waited for her father and, in that time, a house elf had appeared to serve some tea. Finally, he arrived and was preceded by Gilly, who formally introduced him.

Despite her anticipation, Ginevra was happy to see her father and rushed to embrace him in a warm hug. "Ginny... you are well," he said with surprise as she knocked the wind out of him.

"Of course I am well," she said with a smile. "Why would I not be?"

Mr. Weasley appeared to be nervous as he took in his surroundings. "Your letter came as an unprecedented shock, Ginny. Your mother thought you may have been Confunded or coerced in some way..."

Ginevra laughed awkwardly at his comment, deciding to introduce Draco now and get the stiff pleasantries out of the way. "Father, please, let me introduce you to Mr. Malfoy," she said, drawing her father's attention to Draco, who was now making his way over to the pair of them.

"Good afternoon, sir," Draco said in his most polite voice as he bowed to her father in the most gentlemanly way possible.

Mr. Weasley's manner became distinctly cold upon Draco's address, a reaction that disappointed her. "Good afternoon," he replied shortly.

"I can assure you that I have not Confunded your daughter," Draco pointed out rather unnecessarily.

Mr. Weasley nodded, his eyes narrowed with suspicion at Draco. "Yes, that much I can tell," her father replied. "Since that is the case, I have come here to tell the both of you that this is an undesirable match, on either side."

"Father!" Ginevra gasped out angrily.

"Ginevra, it is the truth," he said in a stern voice and she could tell he was serious; her father only ever became stern when he felt the situation called for it. "My family has nothing to offer you, Mr. Malfoy, Ginevra has no fortune, nothing to recommend her in the societal sense." That could not be denied, she did have nothing to recommend her aside from her face and figure. "And, please forgive me for being so frank in your own home, Mr. Malfoy, but, Ginevra, is this not the wizard whom your own brother despises? The wizard whom your own sister had troubles with at Hogwarts? The son of a known Death Eater?"

"Father, believe me when I say that I have considered all that. Draco cannot be judged by his father's actions," she said, taking her own father's hand to implore him to listen and see reason. "And he cannot be judged by the actions of his boyhood. He has donated much for causes related to muggle displacement, he has even set up an orphanage for those who lost their parents during the war." Ginevra looked to Draco to confirm this, but he appeared to be embarrassed by her attempts to defend him. Mr. Weasley seemed rather taken aback by his daughter's admissions.

"It is not necessary to speak of what I have done, Ginevra," he said quietly. "I would rather it not be so widely known."

"Why not? If it will redeem you in the eyes of my family, then why not?" she said impatiently.

"I did not do it for recognition or to be patted on the back," he explained arduously. "I did it because I wanted to help and that is all. And, you say your daughter has nothing to recommend herself, but that is an insult to your daughter."

Her father's ears turned an odd shade of scarlet, a sure sign that Draco had angered him. That was not good. "You know perfectly well that the Weasley's have no dowry for Ginevra to bring you, no fortune to add to yours!" he said loudly. "That is an insult!"

"I am aware of Ginevra's state of dependence on her aunt," Draco retorted, evidently becoming just as agitated as his cheeks began to colour. "And I say I have no need for a dowry, I have no need for further treasures. Your daughter recommends herself to me through her own personal grace, her headstrong manner, her ambitions and interests and her beauty. Nothing less could have induced me to seriously pursue her hand."

Mr. Weasley stood dumbstruck, staring with incredulity at Draco. Ginevra was certain she had the same look on her face. "You don't ask for a dowry?" her father said weakly, his manner changing in an instant.

"No, I do not," Draco replied shortly.

Her father continued to look dumbfounded. "But, then, how can we take your suit seriously, Mr. Malfoy?" he said, confused at this state of affairs.

Draco looked down at her, that burning look in his eyes before turning back to her father. "Because I love your daughter, and that is all there is to it," he answered, his voice firm and his features set with resolution.

Ginevra felt a warmth flooding her body as his words reverberated in her head. Draco had said as much once before, but never to another person; that made it seem more real.

"And you, Ginevra?" Mr. Weasley turned to her, a searching look on his face. "I cannot allow my only daughter to marry a wizard if her feelings are anything less than love."

Both men's eyes were on her then, both awaiting an answer from her. Ginevra thought back to their dance at Lady Selwyn's ball and knew that had been the moment she had realised the truth of it. "Father, Draco has not even yet asked for my hand," she said. "But, I can tell you that if he were to do so, I would accept because I could only ever marry a man that I loved."

Mr. Weasley sighed in resignation, his shoulders relaxing as he breathed out. "Your friends will struggle to accept this, both of you," he warned. "If you are to enter marriage, I advise you not to do so lightly; it will not be easy to overcome prejudices on both sides." He took a seat now, looking very tired. "This is very difficult for me to accept, Ginevra... very difficult. To hand you into the care of Lucius Malfoy's son goes against my better instincts."

"Mr. Weasley," Draco said, taking a seat on the sofa with Ginevra. "I am not my father's son. His views were misguided and foolish, and I have paid for his mistakes these years past." He took a breath before continuing, possibly finding it difficult to speak of his parents. "Despite his bigotry, he had the highest respect and love for my mother, and also for me. In his last moments, he knew he had failed us as a family. I know I shall do my utmost to ensure Ginevra, and any children born from our union, will be cared for and I am certain she will guide me in the right way in return."

Mr. Weasley appeared to be stricken by this admission; how could he think of Lucius Malfoy as anything near human? But there was pity in his eyes as he looked at Draco.

"Father, please do not worry for me," Ginevra said now. "You know I can handle myself very well, even without a wand. And, do you truly believe I would marry Draco if I did not believe him to be honest?"

"Of course, I trust your judgement, Ginevra," her father replied meaningfully. "And I expect Mr. Malfoy will need to earn my trust if he is to become my son-in-law."

Ginevra beamed at her father and knelt before him to kiss his hand in thanks. "Thank you, father," she whispered gratefully. "You will not regret this."

"Dear daughter, I shall always regret letting you go, as you will when you have your own children," he said with warmth, his eyes shining. "Your mother will not know what to do with herself, she has missed you these past months. And your brothers, well... they have their own lives, I will do all I can to ensure they do not interfere."

Mr. Weasley stayed a few hours more and spoke with Draco privately whilst Ginevra settled in her room. Thankfully, her aunt had kept to her room as she knew her father would have scolded her for her obvious machinations; Ginevra suspected that her aunt was well aware of Mr. Weasley's appearance at the manor and had thought it prudent to stay in her room for the time being, until she could be certain she would be received well enough. It was not until early evening that she bid her father farewell, with a promise that she would return home soon.

"So..." Draco said as they walked back into the house after watching her father walk beyond the iron wrought gate at the far end of the sloping driveway. "We are to be married then?"

Ginevra looked down, bemused at how she had gotten from disliking this wizard to giving herself over to him wholeheartedly. "I suppose we are," she said quietly. "Though your proposal was not quite what I imagined..."

Draco laughed at that, leading her through the drawing room and into another adjacent room filled with musical instruments. "It could not be helped; your father seemed to assume we were already engaged," he replied and she detected a little disappointment in his voice. "But, I did take the opportunity to retrieve the ring I wished to present you with whilst you were upstairs. Your father approved." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled a delicate gold band from its depths and reached for her hand. "Ginevra Weasley, will you do me the honour of consenting to be my wife?" he asked in a low, intimate voice as he stepped closer to her.

Ginevra felt her heart jump to her throat as she registered the closeness of their bodies. "Yes, I will," she murmured softly and she watched him visibly relax as he slid the gold band onto her ring finger, noting the moonlit-like shine with which the rounded stone set into the band shone. Ginevra turned her hand this way and that as she saw how strangely iridescent it shone at different angles. "It is very beautiful," she whispered with awe.

"It is a moonstone," he explained. "Malfoy legend says that the stone was ten times the size it is now when it fell into our possession, and that it was plucked from the night's sky by some long-forgotten Malfoy ancestor to give to his beloved. I doubt the truth of the latter part of the story."

"It is romantic," she said, turning her face up to his now. "And, perhaps, you can kiss me without fear of reproof."

Draco looked down on her then with a flash of desire flickering in his eyes. "If I should kiss you now, then I would be likely unable to resist the urge to take you to my bed and do those impure things to you that you have wilfully been tempting me to do."

"Then, perhaps a kiss will have to wait for when we are wed," she said softly, looking back at him through her lashes. That was not what she wished for at all; if her own father was on their side then her mother would follow eventually, and this gave her the utmost confidence to allow his taking liberties with her.

Draco gazed down at her and she could see his mind working, fighting with itself. The thought that she could have such an effect on him sent a thrill up her spine and she made the decision for him when she reached up and pretended to straighten his waistcoat, her fingers moving gently across his chest. He immediately tensed at her touch, but gave in so very easily when she placed a hand at his neck to pull him down to her lips. This reminded her of the first time, back at his townhouse in London; it was soft and unsure, gentle and searching.

"Kiss me like you mean it, Draco," she whispered against his mouth.

The effect was near instantaneous and he reacted with the vigour she had become accustomed to as he pulled her into him by her waist, their bodies close and intimate. He kissed her hungrily, his hands grasping her as though he could not let her go and she reacted in kind, her own body burning like fire.

"Why do you do this to me, Ginevra?" he whispered, pleading, as he pushed his face into her neck. "You know we must exercise control." Draco managed to disentangle himself from her, turning away as he adjusted his clothing. "At any rate," he said, regaining his breath and composure to her deep amusement, "I have a couple of gifts for you."

Ginevra looked down then. "Oh... well, I don't have anything for you," she said guiltily. What would you buy the man who seemed to have everything?

Draco laughed softly, but not derisively. "I don't need anything, Ginevra," he said simply. "Besides, it is not customary for the bride-to-be to give presents to her groom. Come, have a look."

Ginevra followed him further into the music room so that they stood beside the black grand piano and a magnificently expensive looking golden harp. "That is a beautiful harp, Draco," she said in reverence of it. She enjoyed playing the instrument, but was not particularly enthralled by it, though this piece was so elegantly made that only a simpleton could pass by it without comment. "Was it your mother's?"

"No, it is yours," he said simply. "We did not have a harp until I purchased this one a few days ago. I am glad you think it is beautiful... you can play me many a song to while away the hours."

Ginevra was in awe of such a gift, not daring to touch it. "But, I can't accept this," she said guiltily. "It is far too expensive..."

"Don't be foolish," he replied with a laugh. "You forget that money is no object; for you, as well, it will be a mere trifle.

Ginevra sighed, knowing that there would be no winning; she would just have to become accustomed to the extravagance and flippant way with which he treated money. "That shall be an odd feeling; to not worry about money."

Draco laughed. "It is rather a nice feeling," he said thoughtfully. "But, we do still have our problems, they just differ from those less fortunate."

"Such as?" she asked with a smirk. "I wouldn't say being unable to find the right necktie to wear in the morning is such a worrisome problem."

"Do you mock me, Ginevra?" he asked, an eyebrow raised, but she could tell he only teased. "Being wealthy does have its drawbacks; you see, how can any of us ever know people aren't after our money? There is also the threat of constant scandal - not that I am bothered, as you have come to know - but many others fear it."

Ginevra scoffed at this. "Then people should not behave in such a way as to invite scandal," she said simply.

"Like us?" Draco asked, a knowing look on his face. "Had we been discovered alone at Lady Selwyn's ball, would that not have caused a scandal?"

Ginevra stared at him, her mouth open as he realised his meaning and she immediately coloured. "Oh... well, yes, that should have been a great scandal," she owned.

Draco chuckled. "You see, it is not that easy to resist temptation," he said softly. "But, let us not fall into that trap again... I have another gift for you."

Ginevra baulked at this; had he not already spent enough money on her? "Another?" she asked with shock.

"Don't worry," he said with a laugh, "I haven't spent a knut on this one." Draco withdrew a letter from within his jacket pocket and handed it over to her. "Go on," he urged as she simply stared at it. "Read it."

Ginevra noticed the Hogwarts seal on the letter, even though it had already been broken open and evidently read by him first. Her curiosity peaked at what it could be, so she unfolded the letter without further delay and began to read.

Mr. Malfoy,

Thank you for your letter; it is always a pleasant surprise when we receive correspondence with a former student, even if that student was less than exemplary, as you say in your own words. The odd thing about teachers is that they generally have a knack for seeing past the stupidity of youth once their charges grow up and go into the world.

But, I now refer to your request. I must say we have not ever received one like it for as long as I have been at this school, but we will be pleased to accommodate it. However, please understand that it took some deliberation on my part and we considered your explanations to be adequate enough, this was also taking into account the character of Ginevra Weasley.

Therefore, we should like to invite Miss Weasley to spend a week with Madame Pomfrey at the beginning of June. This is so we can judge her own enthusiasm for the work, as well as giving her the opportunity to see what the work entails. If all is well on both sides, Madame Pomfrey has stated that she will accept Miss Weasley as her apprentice.

Regards,

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Wh-what... I can learn to be a mediwitch with Madame Pomfrey?" she asked in astonishment, staring up at him in disbelief for what he had done for her.

Draco nodded. "You can," he answered, a smug smile on his face. "I couldn't bear the idea of you having to work in any kind of proximity to that disagreeable Thorpe, and then I thought of Hogwarts," he explained. "Madame Pomfrey has been a mediwitch for many, many years. Who better to teach you than her? And where else is there better to study than Hogwarts?"

Ginevra felt as though she could cry and she used all her strength to hold the tears back as she threw her arms around him and muttered a thousand 'thank you's'. Of all the gifts he could have given her, be they diamonds, jewellery, instruments or books, none could outdo this one. Then she stopped. "But... what of children?" she asked seriously. That would be quite a hindrance.

"What of them?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face.

"Well, once we are married, children will come soon after," she said in earnest, needing him to understand. "It cannot be avoided for we will have to consummate our union to make it legally binding and, I am sure you must be aware, children generally come of this union."

Realisation dawned on Draco's face as he looked down upon her. "Ah, yes," he said thoughtfully. "You are worried that you will not have time to study should you have to bear my children?"

Ginevra nodded vigorously. "Yes, exactly," she said with relief at his comprehension of the matter. "How can I learn effectively when I shall be pulled this way and that by my duties as a mother and as mistress to your estate?"

Draco gave an elegant-looking shrug, much to her disappointment. "I, unfortunately, cannot guarantee that you won't be with child once our marriage has been consummated," he said, admittedly with an edge of pity. "But, listen to me, Ginevra," he said, possibly having noticed her disappointment, "you needn't worry. Many witches work into their pregnancies, of course not witches of great estates, but this is not unprecedented. I shall not prevent you from realising your ambition, but you will have to divide your time between our children and work, that is unavoidable." He stepped closer to her now and reached out to stroke her face, a gesture to calm her worries. "I am capable of watching over any children we may have, and we shall both have the house elves to assist us. And, remember that we are not muggles, witches are not treated so badly as their women are so do not feel as if you must imitate their unfortunate way of life."

Ginevra was still anxious, despite his words. "And, what of your estate? What of the manor?"

Draco gave a low laugh. "The estate is easy to run; many witches excite themselves with what they think is a grand undertaking," he explained as he rolled his eyes. "It is not. The wives of wealthy wizards have not much to do except micro manage each aspect of their husband's estates and it gives them great pleasure to do so. If this is not what you wish, I will continue my own management of it. I'd much rather do so, at any rate."

Relief flooded Ginevra as she stared back down at the letter, beaming with happiness and gratefulness at what Draco was to do for her. It was very unusual that he should agree to this, especially being one who had a large estate and a reputation to maintain as the master of that estate. Though, she had realised very early on in their acquaintance, he did not give a fig for his reputation. Now it was just really a matter of how much she cared for her own.

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A/N: Once again, thank you for all your wonderful reviews. Love reading them as they always give me inspiration. If you liked this chapter, please review it as well!


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